Step Up When The Lights Go Off
by ShunKickShunKers
Summary: AU high-school. Natasha Romanoff's life was, from an external point of view, perfect. Well, that was before Clint Barton dragged her into the world of the Street and Crew battles… (Clintasha, Pepperony, Hill/Coulson, one sided Steve/Bucky)
1. Chapter 1

**I've already got like 2 or 3 fics going on already, but this one keeps coming in my mind. I blame the Step Up marathon I had with friends a few weeks ago -_-. I'll try to keep a weekly update since some chapters are already written ^^" **

**Enjoy :)**

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**1**

Natasha Romanoff's live was, from an external point of view, perfect.

She was a young woman of sixteen, soon turning seventeen, with bright green eyes, silky, wavy red hair and a porcelain skin. She lived with both her parents in a calm neighborhood. She had good friends, Bobbi Morse and Steve Rogers, the most popular students in her high-school. James Barnes, a good friend of Steve, was her boyfriend. Rumors had them going steady and people thought they even might get married once out of high-school. She was smart and beautiful and nice. She had taken ballet lessons since she was six and was quite good at it. She was popular with her classmates and the teachers. Every girl loved her or wanted to be like her.

Yes, Natasha Romanoff's live was, from an external point of view, perfect.

"Miss Romanoff would you care to answer the question?"

Natasha blinked out of her reverie and glanced up. The Russian teacher, Mr Pietrovitch, was staring at her with rueful and disapproving eyes. The redhead felt her shoulders stiffen as he leaned forwards, a little bit too close for comfort. Pietrovitch wasn't her favorite teacher by all means –she didn't like the way he eyed her at times, but he was still a teacher. And she clearly hadn't been listening for the past five minutes. From the corner of the eye, she saw Bobbi keeping a perfect straight face, looking away. The others were glancing at her with bored curiosity. She opened her mouth to apologize but before a sound could bypass her lips…

"Sir, we all know she's just gonna score the answer as usual with her Russian background." A loud, complaining voice erupted from the back of the class. Everyone, including Natasha, turned around.

The student who had just spoken was a sandy-haired boy leaning nonchalantly back against his chair with his arms crossed behind his head. Clint Barton. He had been labeled Master Prankster and Trouble-Maker from every reasonable person of the school after he had managed to turn the whole teaching staff crazy with paper balls and painting pots. Natasha didn't know him well, never spoke to him, but given the way he resented and resisted any form of authority, she knew he deserved his titles. It was a wonder he hadn't been kicked out of high-school yet.

"Mr Barton" Pietrovitch snorted, narrowing his eyes. "Do you have anything to say?"

"Sure" the boy replied with a shrug. "She comes from Russia. Everyone in Russia knows about the Swan Lake. Heck, she's even takin' ballet lessons, everyone knows that. Bet she's just as bored as I am with your class." He added with a playful wink at her.

She stared back in disbelief.

"You shouldn't assume; I don't know everything about the Swan Lake."

Barton snorted.

"Oh c'mon sweetheart, like you can be int'rested in that stuff. First, you do ballet –which sucks by the way- and second, you're Russian." She raised her eyebrows at his slightly mocking tone. "Ah, third, everyone knows the freakin story of the Swan Lake. Heck, even my old neighbor who never set a foot out of this goddamn town knows about the Swan Lake. And why the hell would ya make us study ballet t'start with? Ain't there more fascinatin' stuff in Russia?"

"Are you saying my classes are not worthy your interest?" Pietrovitch said, anger showing on his face. Half of the class was much focused now, Natasha noticed. Barton grinned.

"Your classes are _borin'_ sir. There's a slight nuance." A couple of students tried their best to hide their smirk of agreement. She frowned, puzzled at his behavior; Barton was a trouble-maker, but he never showed such blatant disrespect to a teacher.

"Fine. Barton, you just earned two hours detention tonight." The teacher snapped. The boy looked incredibly pleased with himself as the man turned away and returned to his teaching. Natasha kept her eyes a little longer on him, wondering what the heck had gone through his mind…And then he caught her staring and smiled. Not a smirk, not an outwit grin, just a small, easy smile. Something jolted in her chest in reaction. Natasha blinked in surprise, warily smiled back before focusing on the classes again. What the heck had just happened?

* * *

"That guy was just a jerk!" Bobbi shrieked indignantly as she squeezed her box of grape juice. "I mean, you should have seen him talk up to the teacher and blatantly saying that Nat was just a stupid girl because she was Russian!"

Natasha held back a wince; her head was about to explode under her friend's incessant chatter and complaining, as if _she_ had been the one who had almost got into detention with Pietrovitch. Next to her, Steve was thoughtfully eating his sandwich, trying very hard to pretend he was listening to the blonde sitting next to him. James was engaged with a conversation with a football buddy from the table across them so paying no attention at all. The redhead envied him; Bobbi had that habit of sometimes chatting for herself, too glad to listen to her own voice and Natasha had a very hard time tuning her out.

"There he is."

Natasha glanced on the left, following Bobbi's gaze. Barton was there indeed, throwing his schoolbag on a bench and settling among a bunch of senior students. Two girls and three boys. Natasha knew a couple of them by sight, but not their name.

"He's sticking with Maria Hill and Bruce Banner, of course." Bobbi snarled. The redhead stared at her friend, the names ringing a bell but she couldn't remember why. Of course, she didn't pinpoint who was who, so Natasha still didn't know which people she was talking about. "You know, Hill, the girl that got pregnant at fifteen! She's almost never at school. It's a wonder they still haven't kicked her out yet. And Banner, the guy who knocked down more people than Aaron Davis! He should be sent to a mental institute. Jesus, these people shouldn't be allowed at this school at all! This isn't the respectable establishment it used to be, don't you think Natasha?"

The redhead didn't answer and kept staring at the table. They were laughing at something one of the boys had said. Something that felt like longing started to grow in her chest. Her friends were nice, but they never interacted with so little restraint. It was always all proper and perfect manners, especially with Bobbi. And truth was? Natasha didn't really consider them friends, just people she hung out with because her parents approved of them. Other students placated that picture of them being inseparable. If given the choice, Natasha would gladly spend her days alone in her corner. But Bobbi's mother was a friend of her mother, Steve was truly nice and James…well James _was_ her boyfriend. She liked him better than most boys and he was sweet with her. Plus, her parents approved of him too, so allowed her to go out with him late at night, instead of locking her up inside the house…

From the bench, one of the girls noticed Natasha's staring and said something. They all looked in her direction, Barton in particular, and she turned away. Great, now he and his buddies will be wondering what she was up to, she thought mildly embarrassed. Their opinion didn't really matter to her, but she still hated when people thought she was spying on them. To stop thinking about it, she tried to redirect her attention on her chatting friend but miserably failed when Bobbi started talking about her next trip to Florida with her parents. A subject she had no qualm mentioning again and again –although this time she tried to lure Steve into some form of conversation. On her part, Natasha let her thoughts drift back to Russian class.

Pietrovitch had a reputation among students for being a hardass (or an _ass_ period) and slightly creepy. Given her personal experience with him, she tended to agree. The moment she had walked in his class, he had been after her, kept staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking...Natasha sighed. She had always done her best in that class to avoid a potential situation like this; she being stuck with that creep for an hour or more alone…She was lucky Barton had decided to manifest himself and catch the teacher's whole attent-

It suddenly hit her: the satisfied smirk he bore when Pietrovitch had grounded him, the smile he threw at her afterwards. Could he have intentionally provoked…

"Hey Natasha you're coming?"

Bobbi was staring at her expectantly. Steve, James and she had picked up their trail and were obviously heading out. The redhead hadn't realized they had finished their lunch so fast. Good thing she had been done with hers for a while.

"Yeah I'm…" she started then realized in the corner of the eye that Barton's table was clearing out as well. In the split of second, she made a decision. "You guys go ahead; I'll join you in a minute."

* * *

"Can I talk to you?"

Natasha must have startled Barton; the teen, who was aiming his can at the garbage, nearly missed the spot by an inch or two. Behind him, half of his friends stared at her with curiosity. Barton merely turned back to face her, tilted his head on the side, an eyebrow rising in surprise.

"Uh –sure?" He followed her without thinking twice. Natasha led him close to a wall, where she could see anyone approaching or eavesdropping from afar and looked at him straight in the eyes. He had nice eyes, she noted distractingly. A beautiful shade of blue mixed with a little green and golden. She pushed the thought aside and uttered quickly:

"I –I just wanted to say thank you. For distracting Pietrovitch. I'd have been in big trouble if you hadn't intervened."

Her sentence was received with a stare of disbelief.

"You think I opened my mouth t'save you from detention?" he asked. She would have thought he was mocking her, if not for the glint of amusement in his eye and the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. Natasha found herself distracted again; Clint Barton wasn't a particularly handsome fellow like James, but she couldn't deny he possessed this natural charisma that drawn people to him. She barely knew him, yet she already felt at ease around him. "Don't worry 'bout it, sweetheart. Pietrovitch's known for not so innocent touches with girls. I wouldn't have left a cute little thing like you 'lone with him."

She wondered whether she should feel offended, flattered by his words or worried by that side of Pietrovitch's reputation. A few seconds later, she realized he was expecting her to speak.

"Well, that was it, thanks" she mumbled and started to turn away. His hand caught her wrist and she almost jumped out of her skin in surprise.

"Hey sweetheart?"

"The name's Romanoff" she replied although not dryly. Barton chuckled in response and let her wrist go.

"Just to be clear, I didn't mean anythin' bad when I said you were from Russia. Only idiots would. Actually I find that pretty cool."

"Ah." She didn't know what to reply to that. She hadn't taken much offense when he had pinpointed her origins, but it still felt nice to hear that he had no prejudices towards that. It must have annoyed Mr Pietrovitch…afterthought maybe that was why he had said that.

"But ballet still sucks."

This time, she impulsively hit him lightly on the arm. His grin somehow widened a bit.

"Very funny Barton" Natasha snorted dryly then asked out of the blue. "You're coming at Bobbi's party tonight?"

To her surprise, his grin lessened in intensity.

"That's not exactly my stuff and I don't think Morse would be glad if I showed up. I got plans anyway."

Given the way Bobbi had spoken of him and his friends, Natasha tended to agree. Still, she felt a hint of disappointment –hidden straight away by a small smile.

"Okay" she said. "Well thanks again."

"Don't mention it sweetheart."

"It's Romanoff!"

His laugher followed her as she walked away, triggering an odd feeling in her stomach. She pushed it away and hurried to join her friends.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the review :)**

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**2**

It was common knowledge that Bobbi Morse knew how to throw a party. That they bore the hell out of Natasha was not. The first times she had been blinded by fascination –she had never gone out to attend a party, her parents wouldn't let her. The more she went thought, the more the magic faded. For the past hour, she had been sitting in a couch, playing doll for James while he made pointless talk with his so-called friends and drank beer after beer. Sometimes she managed to have fun when she found a couple of people who had more than two neurons in their brains –like Jane Foster or Jasper Sitwell. Not tonight.

"Hey Nat, wanna get out?"

It took her a couple of seconds to realize that her boyfriend was actually talking to her. Overly eager to leave this place, she nodded and followed him. She knew what to expect when he headed to a guest room. For starters, he was drunk and while she was in no hurry to cross that line and James seemed to respect that, she knew he got incredibly horny after a couple of beers. And when he was horny, he got also angry very fast. Still, when he closed the door behind them, she let him embrace and kiss her. That was one of the things she disliked with him; his urge to show he owned her. Not everything was bad; his touches were enjoyable but only when sober. She figured she might let him feel her up a bit then push him away. He was usually satisfied after a bit of groping.

This time though, his hands were much more insistent as he pushed her against the wall and slipped one under her shirt, the other one unbuttoning her jeans.

"James, stop it" she hissed, slapping his wandering hands away. Her boyfriend didn't seem to listen either. He nuzzled her neck and whispered huskily:

"C'mon darling, you must be the only one in the whole high school who hasn't gotten any." His hands groped her butt rather forcefully and pulled her against his front, but that was the last drop. Natasha pushed him off –which wasn't a hard task since he was halfway drunk and she was stronger than her small frame led to believe. He fell on his butt and stared up at her with a lost look. She glared at him in return.

"Sober up first _darling_. I'm leaving now."

The young man blinked at her dizzily but she didn't wait for an answer. She walked out of the room, picked up her jacket and left the house without saying goodbye.

* * *

Maybe she shouldn't have left so abruptly, Natasha thought a while after. Walking to her house didn't take over an hour and it wouldn't be the first time she'd do it on her own, but night was radically different than plain daylight. She'd see details she usually never paid attention to, hear sounds that put her on edge. And the two guys walking up the street in front of her did not look very welcoming. Both looked bulky and strong and while she could take care of herself, Natasha wasn't sure she'd manage a face-to-face with two brainless thugs. Now, she truly wished she had called a cab to bring her home. She hoped till the last second they were going to just bypass her, ignore her and be on their merry way. She had no such luck.

"Hey gorgeous, whatch'a doin' on your own so lat'at night?"

Natasha ignored them and kept walking. Unfortunately, they weren't discouraged so easily. One grabbed her shoulder and pulled her backwards.

"Let me go!" she hissed, planting her fingernails in his hand to make him release her. He narrowed his eyes in return, clearly displeased.

"C'mon, we just wanna hav' a bit o'fun…"

"Hey Nat!"

While she was focusing on the two thuds, a car had showed up in the street and stopped at their level. Natasha never felt so grateful to see Barton's face in passenger seat. The two guys glared at the teenager.

"Get 'way kid, we're dealin' with s'me bus'ness 'ere." Barton, of course, ignored them.

"Hurry and jump in Nat, we're gonna be late at the Heli'." He added, motioning for her to come forwards. She didn't miss a beat and hurried to the back door, opened and slipped in. Two boys were already sitting there, a black guy dressed in baggy pants and dark green shirt and a dark-haired teenager wearing large glasses and light brown shirt–she recognized them belonging to the group Barton hung around with. A young woman was behind the wheel. Natasha didn't have time to open her mouth to greet or thank them that the car started with a high-pitch screeching sound and bolted down the empty streets. They had barely made a tight turn that Barton twisted on his seat to face her with a reproachful frown.

"What the hell were you thinkin'! walkin' all 'lone at night?"

"Contrary to popular belief, it's not safe around here." The woman behind the wheel added. "Especially if you are a girl."

"Yeah, and with those creeps hangin' 'round since those fuckers from Hydra d'cided to jump back in th' Street." She was about to ask what was Hydra when he went on: "you would've been in deep shit sweetheart."

She glared back.

"It's _Romanoff_, Barton."

Natasha didn't expect earning the sudden attention of the whole car. Binocular, Black Guy and Behind-the-Wheel (nicknames by default) stared at her –thought the review in the case of the woman- with wide or surprised eyes.

"You're _the_ Natasha Romanoff?" Binocular asked. "The chick Clint got detention for?"

"I didn' get detention for her" Barton protested. "I just pissed off Pietrovitch 'cause he was bein' a bitch."

"Still, in the hopes of rescuing a damsel from a dreadful fate you spent some quality time with the biggest molester of our high school. Brave Clint, brave." Behind-the-Wheel said, a smirk growing over her face. The two other boys sniggered. Barton grimaced and turned back to face the road. "Anyway, _miss_ Romanoff" the woman added, insisting with sarcasm on the 'miss'. "I'm driving these idiots to the club then I'll drop you off at your place. Good with that?"

Natasha wanted to say it wasn't necessary to drive her back home, but she had no idea where they were going and had no desire to meet other odd guys again.

"All good. Thank you for helping me out."

"Anytime sweetheart." Barton replied for everyone. "An' by the way, the rude idiots who didn' introduced th'mselves yet are Bruce, Rhodey an' Maria."

Bruce Banner and Maria Hill, she suspected immediately. The third name didn't ring a bell though, so Bobbi mustn't have gathered anything scandalous on him.

"Nice to meet you" she replied automatically. Bruce and Rhodey grunted and nodded in reply and Maria kept her eyes on the road. Barton turned the radio station on and turned the tune up. A blasting R&B song echoed through the car, the basses resonating in loud 'boom, boom, boom'. It was nothing like the stuff Natasha listened –she was more into jazz and blues with some pop rock at times- but she realized she didn't mind much. Although she couldn't make out the lyrics, she surprised himself nodding to the beat at times and trying to catch the melody. The boys started to talk, something about the street and singing, but she didn't pay a great deal of attention, too busy staring out of the window.

She didn't recognize that part of downtown; the streets were halfway deserted -aside for a couple of people standing in front of opened doors taking a smoke. Given the blue neon at the entrance, Natasha assumed it must have been a nightclub or something. She was right. And that was their destination. Maria pulled over with a loud screech and braked harshly, nearly shoving all passengers in their fron seat –or in Clint's case, the windshield.

"Out of the car guys!" she barked. "I got a girl to drive back home."

Bruce and Rhodey complied without protest. Barton however, glanced at her through the review mirror and asked.

"By the way sweetheart, wanna come with us?"

"She's dressed like a fucking princess." Maria said with a snort before Natasha even think of a reply. "They are going to eat her raw down there."

Dressed like a princess was actually a nice pair of jeans she had paid over fifty bucks for and a brown jacket covering a white and red T-shirt. Nothing extremely smart and noticeable, but maybe a tidbit too nice for this place. Considering the clothes the others were wearing, Natasha corrected herself mentally, definitively too nice.

"Don' you have some change of clothes in your trunk?" Barton went on, ignoring her narrowing eyes. "I mean, I s'ppose you got your stage stuff stuck back there."

"My 'stage stuff' is home." Maria replied dryly, but something in her eyes told Natasha she was considering the option. "Anyway, that's still if the girl wants to crash the party."

The two turned towards the redhead. Natasha evaluated her options: go back home and fume on her own, or get herself involved into something that clearly wasn't her world? She slipped out of her jacket, grabbed the sleeves of her shirt and tore them. Then, she untied her hair and let it loose over her shoulders.

"That'll be good enough?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"Trousers' still too much" Maria commented, but there weren't any sarcasm in her tone, just a stated evaluation. "What size are you? I might have something that'll fit you."

She dug up a leggings and a pair of short jeans that would do. The torn tee showed enough of her busty bosom and the bottoms clung to her curves nicely. But when she came out changing of the backseat of the car, Natasha actually felt comfortable. Although, if Bobbi caught her wearing that, she'd earn a three hours lecture on decency and how tops, bottoms and shoes were supposed to match. On the boys' end, Rhodey whistled in appreciation, Bruce's glasses fell lower on his nose as his eyebrows shot upwards and Barton checked her out shamelessly.

"With that outfit, Sif's gonna want to battle her if she's down tonight." Maria muttered. It was probably not meant for Natasha to hear, but she still did and it made her wonder what exactly she was getting into. "Now that we're right in time to show up fashionably late, what we're waiting for guys?"

The club was packed and filled with people dancing to the beat of a mix of techno and R&B. With Bruce, Rhodey and Barton melting in the crowd as soon as they arrived, Maria pulled her by the hands, cutting though the crowd to reach the bar. A few waiters were running behind, but as soon as they approached, a strawberry redhead waved at them.

"Pepper" Maria greeted with a nod.

"Hey" 'Pepper' greeted back with a tired smile. "I thought you were never going to make it. Tony has been bitching all night because his favorite reactor crashed and he wanted Bruce to take a look at it."

"Sorry 'bout that, we had to make a stop." Maria replied with a shrug. "A girl Clint knows was being bullied."

The bartender glanced at Natasha for the first time and raised an eyebrow. Natasha smiled shyly in return.

"Want something to drink?" Pepper offered.

"You should probably go on the dance floor for now" Maria cut in, nodding towards the crowd. "I have a feeling Clint's going to want to drown you with booze later. And it's not too crowded right now, so you better take advantage of that."

Natasha opened her mouth to protest, but the look the older woman shot her made her rethink her course of action. The rise of an eyebrow was enough to shoo her away and she mixed with the other dancers. She started moving, swinging her hips, shaking her shoulders on the beat of the music. She felt self-conscious at first, meddling with people she didn't know and dancing alone. Soon enough she realized no-one was paying particularly attention to her and only then managed to get loose. Her short heels held their ground on the floor as she moved smoothly; forgetting everything her teachers had taught her in ballet. No rules to follow, no expectations, just get loose and enjoy herself.

"Oh I think things are getting warm over here!" the DJ suddenly roared in his mike. The dancers shouted their agreement. "And did I see right? Did I see right? Yes I did! Battle's on!"

The crowd cheered enthusiastically as it parted into a circle in a far corner. All around her, dancers had stopped and were gathering in attempt to catch a glimpse of the 'battle'.

"C'mooooon guys I can't hear you! This is Loki and Hawkeye!" the DJ taunted.

Loki? Hawkeye? What was with these names? The crowd seemed to go wild though, acclaiming the two with shouts of encouragement. The DJ put a rather extremely loud R&B kind of song and started mixing with an impressive talent.

Curiosity won over and she made her way through the pack of people. What she saw made her drop her jaw. In the center of the improvised ring, a tall, dark-haired teenager was dancing with a surprising mixture of roughness and grace. He made an odd –but impressive- undulation of his body before throwing himself on the ground and executing gymnastic and hip-hop figures after figures. When he was done, he jumped back on his feet, crossed his arms and nodded with a smirk to someone standing ahead of him. Natasha twisted her neck to catch a glimpse of whoever was the guy's opponent and…stood speechless.

On the other side of the circle, _Barton_ was making a nice demonstration of robot dancing, his body moving in odd angles effortlessly. He jumped forwards, landed on one hand, legs balancing back and forth, before landing on his feet in a perfect reversed leap. His arms waved first, followed by his entire body before he spun on himself thrice. Before she realized what she was doing, Natasha had started cheering with the others, jumping and moving to the rhythm of the music…


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Natasha woke up hangover.

She had never been a heavy drinker, but dear God she recognized the signs of hangover anywhere. The arching, pounding headache, the heavy limbs, particularly resisting eyelids…she must have outdone herself the previous night. With a painful groan, she started to shift position in her bed and…

Wait a second. This wasn't her bed. The mattress didn't feel the same; neither did the sheets and the smell…spices? And wait again, was that someone _breathing_ next to her?

Natasha opened her eyes in a flash. The sleeping, peaceful face of Clint Barton rested inches away from hers. Oh God, she thought silently freaking out, what had she done now?

She slipped out of the bed as quietly as she could, somehow managed to find the exit door without trouble and step out noiselessly. It wasn't until she had closed it behind that she realized one tiny little detail: she wasn't in her usual clothes. The leggings was gone leaving her legs veeeeery bare. The T-shirt she had obviously slept in barely covered her up her thighs –thank God she still had her panties. Natasha was seriously considering returning into the bedroom to search for some bottoms when she spotted Bruce walking up her way. His hair looked messier than the night before, falling over his spectacles in tangled unruly curls, yet his steps were steady and at straight pace. Only the occasional grunt told her he had a hard time waking up too.

"Oh, Nat." he said a bit startled when he saw her. "I didn't know you were staying."

No comments on her lack of clothing and he kept his eyes on her face. Wow, that was a first.

"Neither did I." she mumbled. Bruce looked amused.

"Hangover?" She nodded. He chuckled and nodded towards the closest door. "C'mon, I'll lead you to the kitchen. There'll have some aspirin somewhere."

Natasha followed him wordlessly; her headache was a convincing argument enough. That and really, since the world decided she would embarrass herself this morning, she might as well do it with a bang.

They walked through a couple of corridors before arriving in a large yellow room. The redhead actually blinked when she crossed the threshold: a huge table set for at least twenty people was occupying most of the space and the kitchen was equipped with two stoves and three microwaves. Was this place a sort of collective residence?

"Hey Lily."

Bruce's voice made her realize they weren't alone; a small girl was sitting on the edge of the table, focused on coloring a sheet of paper. She looked up, smiled at the young man before glancing at Natasha.

"Hello?" the redhead said awkwardly.

The little girl stared at her a few seconds before returning to her drawings.

"Sorry" Bruce said with a shrug. "Gillian's a bit shy with strangers. Lily? This is Natasha a good friend of Clint so be nice with her okay?"

"'Kay." Gilliam mumbled without raising her head. Shy indeed, Natasha thought. Bruce's next question caught her interest:

"Where's your mom Lily?"

"Bedroom." The girl mumbled, using a particularly bright red over some green. "She said back asap."

"Good. What do you take for breakfast Natasha?"

Maria chose that moment to enter the kitchen. She was dressed with a casual pair of black jeans, deep blue shirt, wearing light make up and her hair tied in a high ponytail. She was also carrying a bag containing the clothes Natasha was wearing the past night. Gillian looked up and grinned, and Natasha remembered Bobbi's words about Maria being a young mother. At second glance, the little girl did look a lot like Maria; they did share the same features, safe for the smile.

"Hi" Maria said and handed Natasha the bag. She didn't blink or ask questions about the redhead's attire. "I thought you'd need that this morning. There's a bathroom over there" she showed a secluded door in a corner. "Feel free to take a shower."

The redhead thanked her and did just that. When she came back, Gillian and Bruce were gone and Maria picking bowls and cutlery from the drawers. Natasha helped her set the table and sat down. She engulfed two pills of aspirin with a large glass of water and hoped sincerely it would work its magic fast. The shower had helped her alleviate the headache, but it hadn't all disappeared. The older woman looked amused –and perfectly not hangover although the redhead was sure she had drank as much –if not more- than her.

"Next time, I'm sticking a no-no alcohol sign on your forehead. As amusing as it was, you would be mortified if you remembered what you did."

Natasha blinked and stared warily at the older woman. Maria stared right back at her, chewing her cereals impassively.

"That bad? What happened?" The redhead had never drunk over the border, she knew her limits. Or she thought she did.

"You may have drunk one shot or ten." Maria replied nonchalantly. "You're not used to it. Give it a couple of weeks of practice and you'll be fine."

"One shot or…" Natasha's voice trailed off as a very dreadful feeling invaded her. "What the heck did I _do_?"

The light smirk on the older woman's face did nothing to lift her anguish.

"Nothing too bad. You flirted with a lot of guys –Clint wasn't happy about that; and couple of girls too –that was more of a turn on." Natasha's cheeks flushed red. "Broke some groping hands –got thanked by a few for that –nearly got into a fight with a girl from the Asgard crew and ended up battling her. You didn't hand her back her ass, but you did some quite impressive figures."

"Asg-_what_?" the redhead repeated, blinking hard to focus. "A battle? I fought someone?"

"Not in the sense you'd expect. See," Maria started as she lifted her spoon, dripping with milk and Cheerios on the table. "Crews are sort of…let's say street gangs but only interested in dancing challenges –at least most of them are. Clint, Bruce, Rhodes and I belong to the Shield Crew. The Helicarrier –that's the name of the club we went to yesterday –is the best place for crews to show off. Sometimes underground competitions are organized so crews can battle each other; that's what we call the Street. You're following so far?"

Natasha nodded.

"So basically I got into a dance battle with a girl belonging to a crew named Asga-something. And I lost."

Maria lifted her glass of orange juice for cheering.

"With your head way up high. It was a beautiful duel. Even Tony approved. The DJ" she added when Natasha blinked in confusion. "He thanks you for not breaking his fingers too by the way."

The redhead snorted and picked up an apple. If only she could recall what had actually happened, she wouldn't feel so bad…or given Maria's smirk, maybe she'd better not remember. A heavy set of steps pulled her out of her dreamy state. When she turned around, she saw a man in his late twenties entering the kitchen, dressed in suit with tie. At first, she had to stare, because no-way a man dressed with a suit would wander in this house. Then she remembered she was not supposed to stare when she had crashed said house for the night without asking permission first. Plus, she didn't know who lived there exactly. Clint, Maria and her daughter and Bruce seemed to have their own room. She hadn't seen Rhodey yet so maybe he had gone elsewhere.

The man-in-a-suit smiled and held out his hand, seeming unsurprised by her presence.

"My name is Phil Coulson, I am the owner of this house and Clint's legal guardian."

"Natasha Romanoff." She replied politely, shaking the offered hand. "I'm a classmate of Barton's."

"Y'know calling me by my first name ain't gonna kill you. Or me for the matter."

Natasha turned around to snap back at the young man when all thought froze. Barton was standing in the doorway, hair wet from a shower and _bare_-_chested_. She couldn't stop the '_OMG look at those freaking abs!_' run through her mind; he had indeed nicely defined muscles, a perfectly drawn six-pack and very, very broad shoulders. How come she hadn't noticed before? Her mild attraction must have shown on her face, because Clint smirked smugly.

"Nice eh?" he said cockily. Phil and Maria rolled their eyes. Natasha still had a hard time tearing her gaze away. "I'll eat later. Loki beat my ass yesterday. Gotta be ready for the next round."

"Next round is in minimum a week away" Maria said. "Don't try to ditch your homework."

"I won't Mom" he replied with a grimace. Then, he turned towards Natasha. "I can tour you 'round the house if ya want? You gotta see the dance practice room!" he suddenly sounded like an overexcited puppy. Before she could answer, he ran to her, grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him.

* * *

"The building's an old warehouse. Phil bought it years ago and renovated it 'to a sort of big house with tons of bedroom. Guys from the crew often crash down here when we get wasted." Barton hadn't shut up since they started the visit tour. He'd comment on the rooms, on the corridors, tell her anecdotes and stories that made her smile. Why he was so talkative and eager to show her around though, she didn't understand. They weren't even friends to begin with. "Would ya believe me if I told ya Phil started the Shield Crew? Use to be an awesome dancer; but he hatta stop when he got heart problems. He's still awesome by the way, but can't do some figures 'nymore."

"He's got to have some money." She mused, remembering the whole kitchen and a few rooms they had gone by.

"Sort of" Clint replied with a shrug. "I know he started writin' after he stopped dancin'. His books aren't big hits but they sell and he gives conferences so yeah, guess he's loaded enough. The guys still pay a small toll when they come 'round over three days. Or they brin' their own snacks. Rhodey's the only one who likes grape and that odd cereal, so he brings his own stuff. I'm Phil's ward so I'm lodged for free, but if I wan cash, gotta work for it."

He stopped in front of a large door. "And here is the masterpiece of this place." He turned the handle and pushed it open. "The trainin' room!"

Given what she had seen from the house, Natasha was expecting a classic training room like she'd see in a ballet or dance room. She did not expect a perfectly polished floor with a wall entirely covered with mirrors, a space covered with what she assumed to be mattresses and a freaking wall of two meters high and five long in the middle of it all. Three people were already in motion; two she didn't know were practicing a slow duo while the other –Rhodey- was bouncing on a trampoline and making incredible figures she only saw on TV.

"This place is huge." She admitted in a hushed whisper.

"Ain't it?" Clint piped in with a grin. "It's been the Shield HQ forever. If you ever wanna try it, just show up!"

"I'll keep that in mind." She replied seriously. After last night, she definitively wouldn't mind using such a room and people here had a different approach to dance. She would actually love to watch and learn from them. "If it's okay with you?" she added quickly.

The bright grin on the teen's face was an answer enough.

* * *

Clint lived and breathed for a few things, Natasha learned that morning, but the main one was dance. He had started at twelve to impress a girl and had never stopped since then. She also found out they had many things in common: they bounded over some books, argued over movies, mentioned music and of course, dance. Needless to say, Clint never got to train that morning.

She still declined his invitation to stay for lunch, feeling she had worn out her welcome. Maria had also casually reminded the teenager that he had obligations that afternoon. So, he drove her back to her house, chatting happily all the way, insisting again and again that she called him by his first name yet not dropping the 'sweetheart' nickname. After a while, Natasha just gave up.

Once home, she spent the majority of the afternoon finishing her homework, cleaning the house and practicing a piece of ballet she had learned the last session. Her parents wouldn't be home until the next Wednesday at best so she had far enough time on her own. A little voice in the back of her head that she should have probably stayed at Clint's place, but she liked being alone from time to time too.

It wasn't until past six that she received a message from the external world.

'_Hey sweetheart :) What'ya doin?' _

She frowned. The name of the sender was Clint. When did she enter Barton's number in her contact list? Perhaps sometime during her overly wasted time the previous day…the second text came seconds after:

'_BTW don't fret. I added my number in ur phone yesterday. Forgot 2 mention it'_

'_I'm not 'fretting''_ She typed back. '_And FYI I was doing homework. Got a late essay to finish for tomorrow.'_

The response was immediate.

'_Liar, liar, pants on fire. U always finish ur homewok 3 days b-fore D-day. If u don't wanna chat, just say so :-P'_

The corner of her mouth tugged upwards. Was he bluffing, or did he truly know that she was indeed done and was just planning to read a book? The excuse always worked with James or Bob- speaking of which, she suddenly realized, she hadn't heard from them since the previous night. They hadn't tried to reach her after the party…Oh well, she'd see them tomorrow anyway.

'_Sorry, just tired.' _

'_No prob, I understand. We sure were busy last night ;)' _

'_How did I end up in your bed anyway?_' she typed, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks. That was something she actually hadn't dare speak of face-to-face. She was pretty sure nothing had happened but…

'_U invited yourself there sweetheart n tried 2 seduce me 2! Sure as hell wasn't complaing, u got awesome hands n mouth n a gorgeous body ;)'_

'_WHAT?_' pleasenopleasenopleaseno, she thought feeling the embarrassment grow every second, please I didn't do what I think I did…

'_Just messin with u lol. U were drunk, I wasn't in the mood 2 carry U upstairs 2 the guest room, so just brought u 2 my bed. There was a bit of making out –check ur left shoulder for bite marks if u don't blive me- but nothin else :D'_

Natasha was sure Clint knew she was off to the bathroom to check said shoulder. She didn't know what to feel when she saw a vague red trace in the form of a…Oh shit.

'_Thank you for bringing me home safely_' she eventually typed lamely. How was she supposed to answer that?

'_Anytime sweetheart :3 If U want 2 have some true fun again, call me!'_

'_Shall do'_ she replied, hesitated, and then added a smiling smiley. Yes, she would definitively do.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the long wait. I had an alternative idea for the plot and figured I might as well change a few things in the story from now on. Next chapter is 1/4th done, so with some luck it'll be finished by the end of the week (although this is a busy week...fingers crossed I'll have time at all ^^") **

**Anyway, thanks for the reviews and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

'_Anytime sweetheart :3 If U want 2 have some true fun again, call me!'_

'_Shall do' she replied, hesitated, and then added a smiling smiley. Yes, she would definitively do._

**4.**

And she did, the very next week-end.

She blamed her quick call on the fact she was utterly bored at school and her parents were still on their business trip for the next couple of days. Moreover, she hadn't quite forgiven James for his groping mood and Bobbi for not checking up on her and had declined spending time with them. Steve had naively wondered why, but submissive as he was, didn't inquire further.

Clint welcomed her with a huge grin but this time, didn't overbore her with comments as they walked through the warehouse. He was grinning happily and making small talk but nothing exuberant.

Natasha wondered what had triggered such a change.

"I'll introduce you quickly to the crew. They're the only guys who'll be trainin' anyway," he said before pushing the door open. Contrary to the previous day, the room was in full activity now: in addition to the ones she already knew, a couple of newcomers were there, training or talking.

"You already know Bruce, Maria and Rhodes." He vaguely waved in the direction of the person he named: Bruce was executing what she suspected was a routine of moondance and shuffle, Maria was stretching against a bar, and Rhodes talking with another tall guy. "Bruce and Eyes of Wisdom over there," - he pointed a half-bald teen working on a radio, and Natasha was surprised to recognize Jasper Sitwell - "are the techs of the crew. Well, there's also Tony and Pepper but they're not here today. Everythin' related to recordin' stuff, ask Jas. For mikes and wires, ask Bruce. Anything to do with music or remixes, you send to Iron Man."

"Iron Man?"

"Yeah, Tony's official DJ name. Look him up on Google some time," Clint added nonchalantly. "I think you met Pepper already?" Natasha nodded, remembering the bartender of the Helicarrier. "She's Tony's manager and while she's at it, takes care of our stuff. They're the ones who make sure the show goes on. Then you have Maria and Phil –you met him yesterday at breakfast. They're the choreographers. They're creepily awesome at figuring out what's best for everyone."

Bits and parts of their last conversation came back to her.

"I thought you said Phil couldn't dance anymore?" she said, raising her eyebrows in puzzlement.

"Couldn't do everythin' he used to. Doesn't mean he doesn't know what he's talkin' about," Clint corrected with a shrug. "Next, we got Rhodey and me, dancers-slash-stunt guys. Anythin' involvin' muscles or real-time stunts, we're on it. Bruce joins too sometimes, when he actually feels like dancin'." Without interrupting his routine, Bruce flipped the bird at Clint from afar. "And the rest love to show off-"

"Friend Clint!"

Both teens jumped at the sound of the booming voice. The tall blonde who was talking with Rhodey suddenly stood next to them, a beaming smile on his face.

"Hey, big guy!" Clint said, fist-bumping him. "How's life treatin' you?"

"Life has done me good lately. I believe I do not know your friend."

"Ah, yeah. Well, here's Natasha. Sweetheart, meet Theodore, nickname Thor from the Asgard crew." Clint introduced quickly. Natasha thought the name sounded familiar.

"I heard you nearly bested our dear Sidney at the Helicarrier the other night." he said with an impressed expression. "She was thoroughly impressed."

"Thank you," she replied warily.

Clint waited until the newcomer had gone before adding:

"Asgard and Shield crews are tight, 'specially for competitions. Core members assemble an' we form the 'Avengers', so they com' to train here from time to time. That guy, Thor, he's their leader. He brings the Warriors Three crew, Sif - I mean Sidney - and his fuckin' brother with him."

Something clicked in the back of Natasha's mind as she remembered the morning after their night at the Helicarrier.

"Let me guess, is his brother Loki?"

He stared at her.

"How did you know?"

She smirked.

"Anyway, how does this work?" she asked without answering. Clint shrugged.

"You warm up in your corner. Squat someplace. Train, do whatever. It's no different from a normal trainin' room, ain't it?" Natasha was tempted to invite him at her ballet lesson so he could realize how huge this place was. "Well since you're already all dressed up, I'll leave you to your business. I got stuff to do so, see you in a bit!"

And upon these words, Natasha just stared as he left hurriedly and disappeared behind a door. Seeing that no-one was paying attention to her, she settled her stuff against the wall and started. She took her time warming up while glancing at the others as they trained on their side.

Bruce and Rhodey had taken off their shirts and were working a duet. Maria was testing moves in front of large mirrors, watched by an awed little Gillian. Clint hadn't reappeared yet and Jasper had left too. The three or four others Clint hadn't introduced her to continued to practice on their own as well. It was a nice change, she supposed. No common rehearsal, no teacher glaring if you didn't raise your leg high enough…

When she deemed herself ready, Natasha stood up and moved towards one large panel mirror to practice the usual stretching and basic moves. Kick, chassé, a couple of spins...and suddenly she ducked an invisible bar, jumped over a nonexistent obstacle and froze perfectly still. No music reached her ears, all her focus was on the slowness of her movements. The first time she had tried this exercise, it had reminded her of yoga; except she adapted it at various levels of speed.

Lost in her routines, Natasha soon forgot where she was; that people were there as well. She just finished something she had been dying to try for weeks when she noticed Maria approaching.

"Where did you learn that last move?" she asked with curiosity. Natasha felt her ears turn red, oddly pleased at her interest.

"I looked up stuff on youtube," she replied nervously. "But I never had the space to practice."

"So this was the first time?" Natasha nodded. Maria blinked. "You're good. Could you show me?"

The redhead remembered what Barton had told her about Maria being a choreographer and explained by reproducing the odd pirouette-slash-backward jump at slower motion. To her surprise, it didn't take more than two demonstrations before Maria caught the trick. Or at least, so she claimed.

"Maria's got an eye for those things."

Natasha hadn't heard him approached and jumped, startled to see Clint standing right behind her. The young man grinned widely. Maria rolled her eyes.

"Stop scaring others with your creepy sneaking skills. You'll give someone a heart attack one day."

"Gillian's asking for you in the kitchen," he replied nonchalantly, ignoring her stare. The brunette rolled her eyes again and took off. Barton turned towards Natasha and asked, "Do you want some music?" "Why not?" She replied. "You're going to watch?"

"Blame me, I'm curious about what you can do." Clint said with a challenge in his eyes. He headed towards the hifi and pushed play.

The music was a good old R'n'B, not something Natasha was used to, but could deal with. She let her instincts take over and lost herself in the melody. She didn't know much of hip-hop; her style wasn't close to their modern, street-dance techniques; but she was a good observer and a fast learner.

One of the reasons she had been so eager to return was the lack of pressure. She could do anything without people judging her. She watched and studied dances she found on youtube or other streaming websites but as she told Maria, she didn't have enough space. Her teachers would never allow her to practice in their training rooms and while her own room was larger than standard, it wasn't enough.

What she had watched, she absorbed and made it hers, allowing her body to contort and bend and jump. She stretched after a spin, threw her head back, bent one knee and threw a high-kick. Using her flexibility she then landed on her forearm and twisted her body in an odd fashion. Back on her feet, she executed a series of shuffling and twisting before shifting on to jumpstyle and back to a mix of shuffle and classic.

It was exhausting but it felt good, she thought. Suddenly, she realized that Clint had joined her and was trying to mirror her. His approach was wildly different from hers, but they were literally dancing around each other, baiting and spurring each other on, touching and brushing and Natasha loved it.

He took a step back, started spinning in his own world and Natasha stopped dancing and watched, knowing what he was doing. She had seen that same attitude back at the Helicarrier the previous week; he wanted to 'battle' her with a demonstration of his skills and she was truly impressed. Most of the moves and techniques he used were considered dangerous - she knew it, she had read enough books and watched enough videos - but he made it look so effortless, the muscles of his forearms and shoulders contracting and flexing, slightly sweaty as he pounced on them repetitively…When he was done, he raised that same challenging eyebrow and gave her a cocky smirk. _Show me what you can do_.

She smirked back again, and did.

* * *

Natasha tripped. It was stupid and so banal, a routine for her, not even a rookie mistake. But her mind and body were too caught up in the dance, her attention too focused on that infuriating rival that kept matching her again and again. She didn't notice the cloth lying on the ground and when her feet got caught into it, she fell.

Her body didn't hit the ground though; a strong arm caught her and pulled her flat against something softer – although still strong - and warm.

"You okay?" Clint asked quietly. Natasha almost rolled her eyes at the cliché – of course he'd catch her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied as he held her until she stood still. He had large hands, she realized, as they sized her waist firmly. They were warm too. "My pride took the worst," she added quickly to hide her emerging embarrassment.

There was something unsettling in his gaze. His face was serious, lips parted as he panted from their duel. Pearls of sweat were forming over his eyebrows, a drop slid down his temple, cheek, corner of his mouth...

Someone cleared his throat. Too focused on their little dancing duel, Natasha had forgotten they weren't alone. The whole room had stopped their workout to stare at them, everyone looking slightly impressed.

So was the black man dressed with a leather coat standing in the doorway.

Natasha quickly pulled away and oddly, felt the loss of his warmth. Clint cleared his throat, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Mr. Fury," he greeted, his voice wavering. "I didn't think you'd be here till five."

The black man stared at him, then at the clock on the wall, then back at him. Natasha glanced in turn. Five thirty. Wow, she thought, time had gone pretty fast.

"Your name?" he asked staring straight at her, his voice strong with authority. Obviously that man was used to give orders – and being obeyed. Maria stood up and spoke on their behalf.

"She's just a friend of Clint's. She comes here to train with us sometimes."

"Part of the crew?"

"We didn't ask." And her tone indicated she wasn't intending to.

"Shame," Fury muttered, not moving his view from the redhead. Natasha felt uneasy under his direct stare and couldn't stop the relief when he finally switched his focus to Maria. "Are you ready?"

The young woman nodded and grabbed her bag, quickly followed by Jasper. Once they were out the room, the redhead turned towards her partner.

"Who is that guy?" she asked him. Clint smiled warily.

"Nick Fury, better known as Nicolas Furholl. He's the headmaster of a Creative Art School in Atlanta and a buddy of Phil's. Basically he runs a company of live theater and a huge art school. He's always headhuntin' 'round here for new recruits."

"Recruits?" Natasha repeated, surprised.

"Yeah, dancers, singers, actors, that kind of gig. Believe it or not, this area's got a lot of awesome guys. He's set on hiring Maria as his assistant once she's done with high-school – she's been helpin' him for a couple of months already. I think he's been eyein' me for a while, as a dancer or stunt guy." Clint smiled faintly. "And apparently, he's got you in his eyesight too."

"Oh really?" Natasha replied, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yeah, really. He asked for your name." Clint shrugged as he added, "Be careful though. Bastard can sweet talk anyone into joinin' his company if he thinks there's potential. Impress him twice, you won't have to do it thrice; he'll be the one harassin' you till you beg for mercy."

Natasha made a mental note to do a little internet research on the guy once she got home.

"By the way, I know Maria implied that she wouldn' ask, but you do you wanna join the crew?"


	5. Chapter 5

**SO SO SO SORRY for the long wait. Life happens and muses decide to strike elsewhere so I had a hard time writing this...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. **

**Thanks to AgentEquus for betaing!**

* * *

**5.**

Clint was working on a particularly difficult math problem when the door of his bedroom busted open. An utterly-pissed Maria stood fuming in the doorway.

"You asked her to join." No need to mention who was concerned. The young man glanced at his fuming friend innocently. "We talked about this before!" she went on. "You can't just ask random people to join without consulting the rest of the team!"

"You would have asked her eventually!" Clint protested, putting his pencil down. "I just…anticipated the thing."

Maria entered, slammed the door behind and walked up his desk. She crossed her arms and stared at him severely.

"Give me one reason, one goddamn reason for me not to kick your ass right now. Tell me you didn't ask because you had a goddamn crush on her forever and this was an opportunity to get closer to her."

"It's not it!" he protested, but under her knowing glare, admitted: "Okay, maybe it's part of it. But she's talented! Anyone can see that. Whatever crush I may or not have doesn't matter."

"For God's sake Clint, you barely know her!"

"I know her enough." He growled. "Listen Maria, I need you t'trust me. This girl is just awesome! I know she'll fit among us eas'ly. Ask the others -"

"Way ahead of you, buddy. They've got mixed feelings about this, especially since she's hanging out with Morse. I don't want that bitch here or I will beat her to a pulp."

"I don't wan' Morse back either!" Clint protested. "I know what she did, I was the first concerned, remember?"

Maria rubbed her temples tiredly.

"Sorry, I know. But what tells you Natasha isn't the same? She looks nice and she is definitely skilled, but…"

"But she is different. Trust me Maria, please. If she agrees…"

"You mean she didn't answer yet?"

"She said she'd think 'bout it. I'm tellin' you, she's different."

The brunette sighed and shook her head, knowing the young man wouldn't back off his decision.

"You have one month to convince me she's worth it. One month. After that, I'll ask the others again and we will decide together!"

"Fine! Fine!" he snapped, annoyed. "Anythin' else?"

"Phil wants to talk to you about some project. I'm not sure what it's about, but he's waiting for you in his office."

Clint rolled his eyes and put down his pen. He knew what Phil was about. He knew the man and Fury were tight, and both were very keen on having him join Fury's school after he graduated. Heck, he was almost part of that school already! Passing the entrance exam would be just a convention. The board of directors knew him and even asked him to teach classes or participate in demonstrations sometimes. There was no question whether or not he'd enter that school. Clint wanted to and he would succeed, especially if both Phil and Fury had his back. He still headed to the man's office anyway.

Phil was actively working on his laptop when he entered. Reading glasses on his nose, fingers typing, brows frown deeply… probably working on his new book, Clint assumed.

"Maria said you wanted ta talk to me?"

At the startled jump he gave, the man mustn't have even heard him come in.

"Ah, yeah. Please sit." Clint obeyed and made himself comfortable; he wasn't expecting to stay long but with Phil, he never truly knew. "I had a call from the police earlier today. Were you hanging around the Hydra district this afternoon?"

The blond didn't blink, didn't tense. He merely stared at his adoptive father angrily.

"You think I'm that stupid?" he snapped. "I quit dealing with those fuckers a while ago, y'know that. I've been clean for years!"

"One of their infiltrated agents thought they recognized you," Phil replied calmly.

"Listen, Phil," Clint growled, shifting position and leaning forwards. The subject always irritated him and that his tutor, a man he deeply trusted, suggested he even talked to them felt like a betrayal. "Hydra and Chitauries can go fuck themselves. I quit three years ago and ain't going back to them. I'm not…" he paused, swallowed and continued: "I ain't Barney. I care for fam'ly."

The man nodded, a soft glint of understanding crossing his eyes.

"That's what I told them, Clint, I just wanted to hear from your own mouth that you didn't set a foot on their territory." Phil glanced at his laptop again. "Well, just be careful. It seems Thanos tried to approach Loki again so I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to contact you too."

The young man snorted.

"Schmidt can try to recruit me all he wants, I'm Shield now."

A smirk grew on Phil's face.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear, kid."

* * *

Bruce was never one to rush into things. Before joining the crew, he was a loner. Not by choice though; after his father beat his mother to death and was thrown in jail, he was sent to live with his aunt and cousins. Clarissa Banner, in all honesty, had been quite fair to him and had tried to spare her time equally between him and his cousins, but she could only do so much. Her work in the military included moving around the country a lot and not having much time to settle properly.

It wasn't until the past two years that his aunt had apparently finally found a permanent place to stay. Still, Bruce was often left alone since his younger cousins acted recklessly more often than not and Clarissa trusted him enough to act like a proper adult. His only solaces through all these years were science and, oddly, hip-hop dance.

Science, he could say, he inherited from his father. Hip-hop was a passion he had developed on his own but had no real place or time to practice. A house of four including three kids under twelve didn't allow it. His only teachers were videos and DVDs and the few nightclubs he was accepted in. One night during an excursion, a man named Phil Coulson had approached him and offered to join his crew. Although he had been dying to accept at the time, Bruce had asked for a delay in his response. After a discussion with his aunt and a lot of pondering over the pros and cons, Bruce had showed up to the warehouse and been immediately enrolled as a key player in the crew.

Frequenting dance-freaks had encouraged him to progress and, in spite of himself, the Shield crew had become his family.

So when Maria announced them that Clint had invited Natasha Romanoff to join, Bruce's first reaction had been to take a step back and reflect. It was no secret that Clint had been soft on the redhead since middle school, but it did surprise him that after the Bobbi Morse fiasco, he would enroll her so fast. Either Clint had a blind trust in that girl, either he was…well, nuts. Love did make you take stupid decisions.

The compromise for Clint's impulsiveness had been that after a month trial, they would all decide whether the girl, given she accepted, could join the crew or not. Bruce approved. One month would give him and the others enough time to figure if she would turn into a liability or an asset for the crew. After all, the Street was mostly about dancing, but not all crews acted like Shield. He knew dark stories that shadowed some of his friends' past. If Natasha joined, she would have to realize that getting involved was not all roses and sunshine.

"Phil's driving Gillian to the kindergarten," Maria announced as he appeared in the kitchen that Monday morning. "You got twenty more ahead."

Bruce replied with a tired nod, wishing he could have slept those extra minutes, and immediately filled a cup of coffee. As he put the pot back, someone snatched the filled cup and started drinking. Bruce turned around and narrowed his eyes at the blond thief.

"That was mine."

"Was," Clint replied nonchalantly before taking another sip. "Key word is 'was'."

Bruce rolled his eyes and made himself another one. Chiding the young man would be useless, but he swore he'd get him back sometime. As he slowly emerged to a clearer world thanks to the caffeine, Jasper showed up, panicking about his late homework. Gillian piped in and talked about a cartoon she had been watching before breakfast. Clint ate anything he could put his hands on, mainly the waffles Rhodey had prepared earlier. Phil stared reproachfully at his ward from behind his laptop. Maria didn't give a damn and kept eating her cheerios.

In the midst of the light chaos, Bruce finished his cup and returned to his bedroom to pick up the book he had been reading before turning the lights off. Dance was his passion, but science was his true kick and the theory of gamma radiations quite interesting… He kept on reading on the way to school, ignoring the three other boys' attempt to distract him. When they arrived, Bruce's attention was slightly parted from the pages as Jasper raised his voice.

"Are you even listening to me?" he was talking to Clint, but the young man's attention was diverted elsewhere. When Bruce followed his gaze, he fell –unsurprisingly- on Natasha Romanoff.

She was talking with a blonde teen in the afar –Steve Rogers, he recognized. Nice guy, but a little too gullible in his opinion. After a few words exchanged, she didn't look too happy and promptly made a bee line for them, dumping the poor blond where he was. Clint's grin widened at her approach; if Bruce still had doubts on whether he was sweet on the redhead, they had completely vanished now. He vaguely wondered if Natasha had realized it or not yet.

"Mornin'!" the blonde greeted cheerfully. Bruce sighed heavily; his friend was just so painfully whipped.

"Hey. Had a good Sunday?"

Clint's mood seemed to dim a little, but so subtly that Bruce nearly missed it. He wondered if it was due to Maria's telling off or something else.

"As good as it can be. What 'bout you?"

"Same. Listen, I thought about your offer and…" she took a deep breath in. "I'm in. You guys are amazing and I'd be honored to join if the offer still stands."

"Course it does!" Clint cut, a huge beam spreading across his features. If Bruce hadn't been concerned about the issue of having another crew member that couldn't be trusted, he'd have been very amused. "We're starting training for the next trial by fire tomorrow. Wanna tag along?"

"Clint!" Maria snapped angrily before taking a deep breath. The young man winced. Bruce figured he might as well intervene too. If he was the one speaking, then perhaps Maria wouldn't be too upset.

"It's another routine competition," he explained to Natasha. "But we take this seriously. If you don't think you can manage to follow - since you've got more of a classical background and all - you can join later." He then turned towards Maria. "Weren't you thinking of trying something different this time? Natasha's input could be useful…"

"It's set then!" Clint chirped happily. Bruce glared at him, silently telling him to keep silent. But Maria didn't seem to care. Actually, she looked like she had found something interesting to consider. Bruce vaguely hoped that it wouldn't include any new training from hell. The young woman's secret grin - a slight upwards tug of the corner of the mouth that everyone including Fury had come to fear - unfortunately confirmed it. _Well_, he thought sarcastically, _the new girl is in for a surprise_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to the people who reviewed and are following this story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Thanks to AgentEquus for betaing!**

* * *

**6**

"Alright, guys, let's call it a day. Thank you for your hard work," Maria announced, clapping her hands to indicate the rehearsal was done. Natasha was relieved she wasn't the only one who almost crumbled to the floor out of exhaustion. Next to her, Clint looked like he could use a good nap, yet was grinning his usual megawatt smile. She accepted his hand to help her stand up – she was supposed to practice a move on the floor – and marveled the strength in his arm when he pulled her up.

"So, what's your first impression?" he asked, chipper as ever. Natasha groaned.

"I didn't realize rehearsal was another word for 'torture'."

Jasper and Bruce were heading towards the exit. Rhodey was spread out on the carpet. Only Thor –who had joined them for practice with two people from another crew –looked passably rested. Phil and Maria were talking actively in their corner, the young woman's skin glowing from the sweat. Barton tapped on her shoulder to get her attention.

"Say, I know a coffee place around the corner. They make killer waffles if you're interested."

Natasha didn't hesitate.

"Let me take a shower and I'm right behind you."

The coffee shop did offer killer waffles, as Clint had promised. They also had awesome smoothies and cookies, and the staff was actually friendly. He explained that most of the crew came here after practice whenever they had the opportunity so the waiters _kinda_ knew them by now. This was evidenced by the fact that Clint didn't even have to place his order; the small, good-looking waitress merely asked if he wanted the usual.

"You never answered me," Barton said as she was savoring a bite of chocolate-strawberry waffle with sugar icing. "What do you think of the training sessions?"

They had been training for a week already, more than enough time for her to make her own opinion. Natasha took her time chewing and swallowing.

"Tiring," she shot back, and he smiled knowingly. "I mean, Maria's a bit of a slave-driver and I'm not entirely used to that dance style yet so it's understandable I guess…"

"And believe it or not, Maria was totally managing you," he replied with that amused grin on his face. "You know, half of the guys actually spend about a half hour doing abs and stretching every night to keep up. Ya might wanna start that."

Natasha groaned again, took another bite, but didn't bitch about it. It made sense, having to reinforce your body some way so it could support the exercise. Clint didn't attempt to continue a conversation after that, so they ate in a relatively comfortable silence. It wasn't until they finished their respective orders that Clint took a sensibly deep breath and asked:

"So uh…it's Saturday. Do you wanna hang out if you don't have any plan this afternoon?"

Natasha opened her mouth to agree, but a little bell rang in her mind. She genuinely felt disappointed when she replied, "Sorry, I'm going on a date with James. I've been kind of neglecting him lately."

Clint was a great guy, she was coming to realize. Even after knowing him for barely a couple of days, she felt they would be close friends in time. But then, she had other… _acquaintances_ and responsibilities, even if Bobbi was a pain and James a bit groping, they were still her friends. She just wished it didn't feel like a chore.

"Oh." Clint looked even more disappointed. "Well, if you ever change your mind, you have my number," He added, trying to act cheerfully again.

She gave him a sorry smile and checked her watch.

"Speaking of which, I gotta go." She pulled a couple of bills and left it on the table. "Thanks again for this morning. It was really helpful."

"Sure," Clint replied with a fake smile. "Have fun."

He watched her Natasha with a pang in his chest, way after she pushed the door on her way out like the horribly, _horribly_ whipped guy he was. Apparently, he wasn't the only one.

"Aw, ain't that sad. You got dumped by your girlfriend, birdbrain?" Clint stiffened. He knew that voice. He knew that voice way too well. "Mind if I sit with ya, fella? I have a feeling you need some briefing about ladies. But don't worry, Iron Man knows it all."

Tony Stark fell into the seat Natasha was occupying barely two minutes earlier. Clint glared at him.

"What is it you want?" he asked dryly. Stark smirked.

"Like I said, you looked sad. Let me…"

"You're the bigges' womanizer in town, Tony," Clint reminded him, none too gently. "I don' want your advice."

"But my heart belongs to one alone," the dark-haired man replied with a dramatic shrug, and before the young man could reply, he added: "So that cute little redhead already has a boyfriend? She's the chick you've been pinning for the past three years?"

"Five years," Clint corrected him halfheartedly. "But she's got a boyfriend already." Tony's grin widened.

"Don't worry 'bout that, birdbrain. You heard the way she talked about the guy? She wanted to go as much as she'd want to sit on a cactus."

The younger man shrugged.

"Doesn't mean a thing."

"Don't be so pessimistic. You liked her even when you were dating that blonde bitch, right?" Clint winced, a bit ashamed of that time. "Well she'll eventually notice and believe me she'll dump that jerk for you." Clint didn't answer. Tony shrugged. "Anyway, don't give up, birdbrain. You'll nail her." He stood up, patted Clint's shoulder and walked away.

Clint stared at him, baffled and annoyed at the same time. It wasn't until the man had left that he realized amusingly that Tony had, actually, never gave him the aforementioned piece of advice.

* * *

Natasha was bored. Utterly, horribly, out-of-her-skull bored. The movie she and James had gone to see was a predictable, insipid plot filled with testosterone and big muscles - exactly a guy's thing. Usually she enjoyed that sort of mindless stuff, but being there with James was seriously tampering with her mood. She should have accepted Clint's offer, Natasha realized in retrospect. At least she knew she'd have fun… She sighed deeply. Perhaps it was time for James and her to have a talk. Their relationship wasn't the same as when they first dated, and she figured they either needed to seriously work on it, or just give up. Some small – okay, maybe big - part of her hoped for the latter.

"Hey, Nat?"

She suddenly realized said boyfriend was staring at her oddly, and visibly upset.

"You were zoning out again."

Zoning out was his expression for when she just stopped listening to incessant chatter (most of the time, Bobbi's) while pretending to do pay attention. In this case, he was asking if she had followed anything of the movie.

"Nah, just tired," she replied with a small shrug. "You ready to go, then?"

They headed to another coffee place, somewhere with a killer snack bar, where Natasha hoped she could tackle _that_ particular subject fast. James didn't stop babbling about how great the movie was and she let him talk. They were about to enter the snack bar when he suddenly blurted:

"By the way, I invited Bobbi to join us. I figured it wouldn't be a problem."

Natasha didn't even have time to reply; the guy had already pushed the open the door and passed the entrance. Now that was a low blow; weren't they supposed to be together alone? _Never mind_, she thought angrily. That would just be another little thing to put on her 'list'. The blonde jumped up happily at their sight, and Natasha remembered she hadn't seen much of her either. Strangely, she hadn't missed her at all.

"You haven't been around that much," Bobbi complained the moment they sat down. Natasha shrugged.

"I got a lot going on, sorry."

"Stuff more important that your friends? You didn't even come to Friday night's party!"

"I declined that one three times, you knew I wasn't coming," the redhead replied dryly. Partying wasn't as fun as it had been before, and she really didn't want to miss a rehearsal. She had more fun sweating. Bobbi pouted.

"But we're friends! And I needed you there. Thomas Black wouldn't get off my back!"

"That's because you flirt with him too much," she replied, deadpan, and not a bit sorry for her. Bobbi frowned, and even James stared at her oddly.

"What's going on with you?" the blonde asked. "You've never been this disagreeable before." Natasha snorted. Disagreeable? Really? "That must be because of the time you're spending with those losers. I haven't said anything because _I_ know you are a perfectly respectable girl, but really, stop hanging out with them."

"Will you stop talking about them like that?" Natasha snapped, fed up with her friend's attitude. "What have they done to you?"

The blonde stared at her, surprised.

"Those people will never have a true career, won't be useful to society. Why bother to grant them any attention?" James snorted in what seemed to be agreement. Encouraged by his response, she added: "They should know their place and-"

The last words barely made it out of her mouth. Cold water hit her face in a not so gentle way.

Natasha was, contrary to appearances, a very impulsive person. For her parents' sake, she had learned to master her emotions and impulses and bury them. She couldn't release them so easily in front of her so-called friends, either, and she had swallowed a lot of naughty comments. But insulting the very people who had helped her out when her two "friends" currently sitting in front of her had not bothered wondering whether she had made it home safe after leaving Bobbi's house? Those same people who had quickly welcomed her in their crew in spite of their initial reluctance to let her? That was the last straw.

She couldn't punch Bobbi - although feeling something crack under her hand would have felt good, she knew a glass would catch less attention than a fistfight - so she went to her glass and threw its content to her head. The whole bar fell silent and stared at them as Bobbi shrieked.

"Are you crazy?!" James shouted, hurrying to the blonde's side. Whispers were rising around the trio, and the entire place was staring at her with awe and a little bit of fear. Natasha shrugged.

"Cool down, I didn't hit her."

"My makeup is ruined! I'll tell your mother!"

"Oh, grow up," Natasha snorted and both James and Bobbi glared at her.

Some customers nearby smirked. The rest didn't deem said distraction worth their attention and returned to their chat. Natasha just wanted to laugh at Bobbi's reaction, but James' caught her attention. He usually disagreed with the blonde's choice of words (he didn't care who she called losers, but he had some semblance of a sense of respect, or at least Natasha thought he had) and would laugh the incident off. It was just water, after all. She stared at Bobbi, then James, then back at Bobbi. The way he held her, the way she almost cuddled him…

"You slept together."

James was a virgin when they got together. And Bobbi had been attracted to him from the start. The evidence hit her so hard she wondered how come she had missed this before. Hadn't he said, "C'mon, darling, you must be the only one in the whole high school who hasn't gotten any?" not too long ago? It was so obvious, Natasha suddenly realized. The way James stuck with Bobbi when they argued, the way he'd look at her sometimes, the sneaking glances and brushes she caught… Bobbi's odd references to the boxing world and James' sudden, strange knowledge of nail and shoes suddenly made sense. When neither denied, Natasha knew she was right.

"Figures," she muttered, shaking her head. It hurt her, of course, but not as much as she thought it would've.

"Nat," James started, "I'm –"

"Save it," Natasha replied, coolly cutting him off. She rose from her seat and left enough money to pay her drink. James immediately left Bobbi's side and followed her.

"I'm sorry, Nat, I truly am!" he said. "It was just a fling, it meant nothing I swear!"

The redhead ignored him and headed towards the exit. People were watching them, loving the drama of it all, but she ignored them.

"That's not what you told me!" Bobbi huffed indignantly.

"You shut up!" James hissed at her, narrowing his eyes. Part of Natasha wanted to explode in anger, but the other just wanted to laugh. She never truly loved – or even liked - James. He was just… convenient, she realized.

"Whatever," The redhead muttered and put her hand on the door.

She was caught off guard when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

His face was torn apart by fury and anguish and his grip strong, but she didn't flinch.

"You are not leaving me!" he howled. A customer in the back started rising. The barista was eyeing them carefully. Natasha didn't hesitate: in one swift motion, she twisted her wrist and brought her knuckles down on the inside of James' wrist. "OW! Fu-" his grip was knocked loose and she gave him a harsh slap for good measure. Natasha was suddenly glad for those self-defense classes her parents made her take.

"Don't come after me, Barnes," she growled under the alternately approving and wincing stares of the other customers, and Bobbi's horrified one. Natasha pushed the door opened and walked out of the snack bar, finally feeling free…


	7. Chapter 7

**Nothing much to say aside thanks for the reviews and following :) -sorry for the ones I didn't answer to btw, I'm kinda short on Internet time lately ^^". you'll get an reply next time!- you guys are really awesome :D! Thanks to AgentEquus for betaing!**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

**7.**

In spite of Clint's phone not answering, Natasha decided to drop by the warehouse. She walked down there –it took her barely an hour, and when no-one answered, entered the opened house. Since no-one seemed in sight, the redhead figured she might as well finish what she had started this morning and practice a little more.

The dance room was empty when she entered, but very faint strains of music could be heard. At first, Natasha thought someone had put on the radio, but soon enough she realized it wasn't a broadcast song. Somewhere in a backroom, someone was singing. And it was beautiful.

She walked through the room, guided by the sound, and noticed a door she hadn't paid attention to before. Hoping she wouldn't disturb anyone, Natasha pushed it slightly open and peeked inside. She saw Coulson and a familiar-looking guy dressed in an Iron Maiden tee standing in front of a large panel of buttons and switches, both staring at a window. The singer was obviously on the other side, and the redhead suddenly wondered if the dance studio was also a recording room. It would make sense, she thought, after all, 'Fury' was the headmaster of a school for the creative arts. And come to think of it, Clint also mentioned he took care of singers…

"Come in or get out but don't stay in between please."

Natasha jumped at the sound of Coulson's voice. He didn't turn around, but the familiar-looking man did.

"Oh, now ain't that a great surprise," he said with a huge grin. "Birdbrain's girlfriend's here!"

"Stark," Coulson called out, disapproval dripping off his tone.

The dark-haired man shrugged innocently and redirected his attention on the singer. Natasha took it as her cue to move and entered. As she suspected, the entire place looked like one of those studios she saw on TV, with big machines and switches and touches and small lights…essentially, an impressive place. She glanced up to take a look at the singer behind the window, whose back was turned to them with huge headphones on his – no, _her_ head, Natasha realized as she recognized Maria.

Her voice was deep and powerful, not quite able to rise into a soprano but Natasha's jaw still dropped in amazement. She was _amazing_.

"I thought you had a date, if I may," Coulson said when she arrived next to him. The redhead shrugged.

"I don't need a boyfriend who cheats on me," she muttered. His face remained blank, but she thought she saw a small wince in his expression…

"If you're looking for Clint, he's gone for the afternoon," he added. Natasha frowned, wondering why he'd assume she came looking for him. Then she realized they had been spending a fair amount of time together…

"I was actually wondering if I could train a bit."

The man nodded and turned around.

"I'll show you a couple of things before. Stark, don't keep her too long in there."

The other man waved at him nonchalantly.

"Don't worry Agent, she's almost done."

"Mom's not just good, she's great!" a little voice piped up. Too fascinated with Maria's work, the redhead hadn't noticed the little figure sitting on a chair in the back of the room. Gillian looked up at Coulson and added: "Whaddaya think, dad?"

Both Stark's and Natasha's head snapped in the other man's direction. The former bore an almost comically shocked expression, while Natasha wondered if the almost thirty-year-old man was truly Gillian's father. Unless she had miscalculated, Maria was about their age, or a year or two older, and Coulson didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd sleep with a teenager. Then again, Natasha hadn't seen anyone around the house that could be Maria's boyfriend. She made a mental note to ask Clint later.

"I think you are spending too much time with Clint, Lily," the man replied sternly, face impassive. "Don't mimic him, will you? And Stark, shut up."

"Wasn't going to say anything!" the man replied, although his eyes were clearly questioning.

Coulson rolled his eyes and walked out of the room, motioning to Natasha to follow him. He led her to a drawer nearby and pulled out a video recorder.

"That's if you need to watch what we did this week. Music is there if you need it…" he pointed another drawer. "But I think you know the place enough to manage on your own."

Natasha thanked him absentmindedly. A question was burning on her tongue and it took her a couple of seconds to gather the guts to ask:

"Coulson, it's probably none of my business, but…"

"If this is about Lily, then yes it isn't your business," Coulson cut dryly. "She just calls me that sometimes because Clint does too and I take care of her a lot, so she gets confused."

Natasha nodded in understanding. She was a curious person by nature, but would have left it there out of respect for both Maria and Coulson if he hadn't added:

"I just want to make things clear. Lily's biological father passed away, so please don't bring up the subject. It's difficult enough for everyone, _especially_ Maria."

There was something in Phil's eyes when he pronounced her name that caught Natasha's attention. His eyes had hardened, as if angry, and his fingers twisted in a way that reminded her of someone wanting to punch something. Protectiveness, she recognized. Whatever had happened back then must have been bad… Now her radar was flashing for more, but before she had the chance to dig deeper, Coulson turned around and darted away back to the recording room. She figured that was another thing she'd probably ask Clint, and hoped he could (or would) provide answers…

* * *

"So I heard she dumped him."

Clint gave Stark a dirty look.

"I have no idea what yer talkin' 'bout and I'm in the middle of an essay I gotta give back t'morrow. So either you explain or you shut up."

They were in the living room with Rhodey and Jasper – Bruce had returned to his aunt's place for the next few days - doing homework under Pepper's surveillance. The woman tended to join the warehouse after a long day; the building was closer to her job than her own place. Phil usually didn't charge her, but she helped out in any way she could when she stayed over. And since Pepper was here, Stark had come to tag along and banter with her. Thankfully they were used to it and most of the time managed to tune them out. Except when Tony decided to pester _them_; then there was no peace until his victim answered.

"The li'l redhead. She dumped her boyfriend. She's free now; you didn't know?" he asked at Clint's surprised face.

"I…" he started, well aware that the full room was watching, all with varying degrees of subtlety. "It's none of my business."

Stark's eyes flared.

"'Course it is! You want the girl; she's free, go after her!"

Clint's glare intensified.

"Are ya crazy? She'll kick my balls if I try t'make a move on her."

"It works for me."

"It _is_ better to wait Tony," Pepper interjected. "Clint isn't you. Thankfully."

"Thanks, Pep," the blonde replied sarcastically. Stark sulked, then called out:

"Hey Maria, what would you do?"

The brunette, who had just entered, stared at them confused.

"About what?"

"Natasha's single again," Stark explained, ignoring the furious glare Clint was giving him. "We're trying to convince birdbrain to just go for it."

"YOU are trying to convince him," Pepper scowled, but turned around to listen to the other girl's answer. Maria shrugged.

"I suck at romantic advice."

"Still, you gotta have an opinion," Stark insisted.

She turned around to snap, but then she met Clint's hopeful, puppy-dog eyes, and sighed.

"If you think making a move now is wrong, then it's wrong. If you think you can jump her, go ahead. Seriously, Clint, you wanna get her to like you? Just be your damn annoying usual self."

"Damn right," Pepper replied with a smirk, and both women fist bumped. Clint looked outraged.

"I hate you all." He muttered, returning to his essay, something about _The Scarlet Letter_.

Natasha was single. _That_ was great news, but it didn't change a thing. She saw him as a friend – which was a good start – but not much more. They had only really known each other well for a week or so – technically, _he_ had known her for a while – and the more time he spent with her, the more he _liked_ her. He wouldn't have made out with her that time if…

Clint pushed those memories aside; he needed to concentrate. Back to _The Scarlet Letter_. His mind drifted to the word _scarlet_, which brought him to _red_, then from _red_ to Natasha's _hair_ and her hair from how _soft_ they…

Clint sighed. Now he couldn't concentrate anymore.

"'m going to the grocery store," He announced. Maybe a walk would do him good, and the sodas were running out. "You guys need anythin'?"

"Cheerios," Maria replied before the words were fully out of his mouth. "And we'll be out of milk soon."

"If you find a DJ Chicago CD on sale, take it," Rhodey added.

"Post-its, blue or green if possible," Jasper said. "And a notebook. And eggs." Everyone turned towards him. "What? French toast is awesome!"

"Need a pin-up poster while I'm at it?" Clint muttered, ignoring the interested glance from Stark. "Be back in thirty."

He picked up the usual grocery-backpack and headed out. The closest convenience store was two blocks away, but he didn't have much to buy. Darkness has fallen an hour ago, but he didn't mind. On the contrary, the scent of grass and wild flowers was calming, and the quiet gave his abused ears a break – the guys didn't know what 'silence' meant. Clint let it surround him and allowed his mind to wander and think of nothing.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the little hawk."

Clint stiffened. His peaceful moment was shattered as a potent mix of fear and anxiety rose within him, and he had to clench his hands to stop them from trembling. He would recognize that voice anywhere, that insolent, threatening tone of the man he used to follow. He took a deep breath, turned around, and glared at the colossus standing right behind him with crossed arms and a naughty smirk.

"What the fuck you want, Thanos?"


	8. Chapter 8

**You know what? The thing is ready so here it is. This chapter is a bit different from the others with a bit of angst…okay maybe a lot-ish. Rape is strongly suggested (not named though), I hope it won't…uh…bother. I took a few liberties with Clint's past (AU and all :P)**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Thanks to AgentEquus for betaing!**

* * *

**8.**

Clint was acting oddly, Natasha thought. Actually, he was always acting oddly, but today? This wasn't him. His smile, his cheerfulness was forced. He would easily get distracted or lost in thoughts and lose focus during training. And on top of it, he called her 'Natasha'. Not 'sweetheart', not 'Nat' or 'Tasha', but her full name. She tried to pin it on some mood swing; a temporary state of mind. But it lasted the whole Sunday morning and even the others were worrying – although she had no idea if they knew what was going on - so she decided to take action.

Right before lunch, after Maria set them free, she grabbed his arm and ordered sternly, "_You_, mister, are coming with me."

Clint stared at her in surprise, but didn't protest as she dragged him out. Natasha could feel the others' gaze follow them as they walked out of the room but didn't turn back. She wanted to make it clear whatever would happen would only happen between him and her. They walked in silence to a park nearby and she led him to a secluded corner. He smirked at her as she ordered him to sit.

"If you wanted to have me alone, you coulda just asked. My room's isolated and quiet enough."

The thought of Clint putting his hands on her made her blush a little. She crossed her arms to chase away the unease – some small part of her brain reacted too much to his words – and said:

"What's going on? You've been off your game all morning."

He shrugged.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't. I'm not going to make a list of all the little things that ticked me this morning, because I can't even _count_ them all, so please just spill the beans now."

"Really Natasha," Again with the full name. "it's nothing."

The falsely nonchalant tone made her just even more determined. Natasha stared at him hard and told him, "I'll find out eventually, Clint. I'm good at finding things out. Look, I just want to help you…!"

He looked at her, _really_ looked at her, and bit his lower lip. Whatever he would come up with next, Natasha knew would be important.

"Would you hate me, if I told you I am a murderer?"

* * *

It didn't take Phil long to find Maria. She was in her bedroom, sitting on her bed and staring out of the window. She always did when she was upset; it was a safe, private place and she felt secure. He was always a little in awe of the fact that she let him in to her personal haven.

"He's going to tell her, isn't he?"

Maria hadn't turned around, but he could picture her blank, unreadable face.

"He'll probably just give her hints, but Natasha's smart enough to get the whole picture. She's not Morse; she won't take advantage of it."

"How do you know?"

"Clint trusts her. He has good instincts."

"He trusted that bitch, too."

Coulson snorted.

"Actually, he didn't. Morse found out by accident. And, she never once saw the inside of his room."

Maria snorted in turn.

"You gotta be kidding me."

"The only times they slept together were at her place," Coulson added, dead serious. "I found out when I caught him stealing condoms from Jasper."

"_That_ is a mental picture I really don't need," she replied, but the man could hear the hint of a smile in her tone. She turned around to face him, and he took it as an invitation to sit on her bed. "I just don't want a repeat of last year."

"You seemed more worried about what Natasha could do than Thanos' threat."

Maria huffed indignantly.

"I kicked that guy's ass once; I can do it twice." Her expression darkened. "If she can't accept Clint's story and blurts it to someone, it'll be easier to leave town."

"I know." He put his arm around her shoulder and met her gaze. A steady, determined gaze that reassured him somehow; it took a lot more than this to break her. That was something he would always admire with her. "If it happens, we'll deal with this. In the meantime, Lily's wondering where her mom has gone."

The brunette put her hand over his and squeezed it gently. She allowed a small, almost-hopeful smile to grow over her lips, and then stood up to join her daughter. Phil watched her leave, truly hoping Clint had made the right choice.

* * *

"A murderer?" Natasha repeated, taken aback. Clint smiled bitterly and stared at some spot on the ground. She sat next to him, unwilling to leave unless she had the full story. She couldn't believe the Clint she knew capable of killing anyone. One of these days, she thought, her curiosity would bite her in the ass. "What happened?"

Clint was tense. His jaw was tight and his fists white from squeezing. Natasha suddenly felt guilty; maybe she shouldn't have asked after all. Maybe some things were better left untold. She was a private person herself, she understood.

"If you don't want to tell me…" she started, but he interrupted her abruptly.

"No it's fine. If you're going to hang around, it's better if you know. I don't want you to hear it from …someone else." His voice was barely a whisper; his eyes were narrowed in concentration. He suddenly grabbed her hand and stared at her with such intensity it made her shiver. "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone. I mean, I'm cleared but there aren't many people who know about it. I don' want my fam'ly's life t'turn into hell b'cause of me."

Natasha nodded her promise and waited. He released his grip on her and leaned back forwards, elbows on his knees. Perhaps to avoid her gaze, perhaps to concentrate, she couldn't tell.

"I had an older brother, 's name was Barney. He an' I lost our parents in a car accident; I was just five or six, can't remember exactly. They shipped us to an orphanage. We stayed two years there b'fore Barney got fed up and ran 'way. I followed him an' believe it or not, we ended up in the circus." Natasha raised an eyebrow and Clint chuckled. "Swear on my honor, or whatever's left of it. T'make it short, I got an act while he was left to clean cages."

"You got an act?" Natasha interrupted, her eyes widening in surprise – and distracting her momentarily. "What was it?"

He smirked slightly.

"I was the Amazing Hawkeye. Never missed a target, just like William Tell."

She hummed in suspicion.

"Hawkeye, isn't that your dance nickname or something?"

"Sure," he replied with a shrug. "When Phil asked 'bout another nickname, that's the only one I could come up with."

"Would you show me sometime? How good you are?" she added with a challenging smirk.

Clint's smirk fell, and he shrugged.

"Maybe." He remained quiet almost a full minute before continuing the story. "So anyway, _that_ new job didn't suit him at all. He got associated with some other guy and started t'do some burglary. 't was small stuff, till we came to _that_ town." He swallowed hard, obviously not wanting to remember that part. "One night I saw him sneaking out, so I followed him. Took my bow an' everything, just in case. When he got into that house, I knew I shoulda called the cops, but I couldn't. I thought I'd wait for him outside till he was done. I wasn't stupid, I didn't want to hang around too long either; so when he didn't come back after twenty, I went after him. Found him…"

His voice broke, his eyes narrowed, his fists clenched and even she could recognize the first stages of a panic attack.

"Clint if you don't…"

"No!" he hissed. "I want you to know! The house was too damn quiet an' I went upstairs…" Clint swallowed and she saw a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm down and went on. "That fucker was up there, with a fucking _kid_! And she was…he had her mouth covered with tape so she couldn't scream so I didn't… I didn't think. I took my bow and… like I said, I never miss. Wish I had that night."

His shoulders were shaking with anger and Natasha didn't know what to think. Was he basically confessing having murdering his brother? She forced herself to remain calm and listen to what he had to say next.

"I should have gone in earlier. I could have stopped him from…" he took a deep breath and shut his eyes. "The cops came and it got ugly. The circus left without me and I was placed in some special institute. A guy nicknamed Thanos contacted me there. He was the leader of another crew, the Chitrauris. They got banned from the Street a while ago 'cause they were into dealing but…" he shook his head. "Anyway, that guy heard about me, 'bout what I've done. He hired me to do some dirty work, which I did 'cause I had nowhere t'go. Got stuck in there a full year before Phil found me an' managed t'save my ass before it was too late. Couldn't get rid of Thanos for a while but Phil put the cops on his ass so he backed off. I wasn't high enough in the hierarchy for him t'bother that much, but apparently he had plans for me. Don't wanna find out what they were."

He paused, long enough for Natasha to gather her thoughts. To say she wasn't freaking out would be a lie; she had would have never expected him to have such a heavy background. Okay, he was an orphan. He had joined the circus, fine. His brother had been a thief and rapist. Not Clint's fault, she reminded herself. Clint had shot his brother. His fault, but given the circumstances… Natasha didn't want to dwell on that right now. And then another crew, one that dealt with bad stuff, according to him. Well, Maria did warn her that not all crews were like SHIELD. And if he had already dealt with the police force, then Clint was cleared. Somehow. She nearly missed the moment he spoke again.

"Yesterday evening, Thanos came to talk to me." Natasha stiffened; no wonder why he had been so tense. "He wanted me back. I told him to go fuck himself." Another bitter smile. "He… didn't take it kindly, shall we say."

"Did he threaten you?"

"Not really," Clint replied with a shrug. "Just said he'd break me." Natasha frowned; that _wasn't_ a threat? "But it's just bluff; if he actually tries anything, he'll be screwed. He knows he's bein' watched."

He stopped talking, eyes back on that spot on the ground. He was waiting, she realized; waiting for her judgment. Natasha didn't know what to do. She just knew she couldn't leave him now. She couldn't bring herself to.

"You know what?" she blurted, "Let's go to the Helicarrier tonight."

Clint's head snapped up and he stared at her, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"The Helicarrier, the place we went to the first time," She reminded him, forcing a smile on her face. "You need a distraction because I am _not_ going to stand here and watch you mope around."

He stood there, carefully observing her. His expression was suspicious, like he couldn't believe her.

"You're not scared?"

She shrugged to suppress the shiver running through her spine.

"I won't lie; I'm tempted to run. But, we're friends right? Friends don't run out on each other." She hesitated, then added softly: "I'll probably never know everyone's background, but I do know you guys have been great with me. You did more in a week than Bobbi and James did in years. If I can't stand my ground and back you up, then I don't deserve to stay."

Something flashed in his eyes, something deep that let her know she had said the right thing. Another shiver ran through her spine, but for a different reason. She didn't manage to avoid his bone-crushing hug. Arms wrapped around her waist, hands clenched the back of her shirt and his face buried in his neck. His trembling, though subtle, was the only reason why she didn't push him away.

"Thank you," He whispered so quietly Natasha almost missed it. "You have no idea…"

His sentence never ended but it didn't need to. Somehow, she understood. Slowly, she raised her arms and hugged him back. Her hand drew gentle circles on his back. She felt some tension leave his body as he relaxed. While he was the one seeking comfort, Natasha couldn't help but feel… _safe_ in his embrace. She closed her eyes momentarily and breathed in. Her fingers were running over the muscles of his back, her chest squashed against his firm, muscled one. She smelled his scent, something like spice and another unique thing that belonged to him. Since when had she become so aware of him?

"You're okay?"

His voice brought her back to reality. Something was wrong with her. After him telling him such heavy stuff, all she could think of was how she could alleviate his pain. She had known him for a goddamn week. She couldn't be falling for him. Could she?

* * *

**Angst –check. Next chappie will be lighter, promise :3**


	9. Chapter 9

**Nothing much to say, aside that I really love you guys :D**

******Thanks to AgentEquus for betaing!**

******And please enjoy :)**

* * *

**9.**

Jasper skillfully grabbed the three glasses that had been ordered and headed towards the table where his crew had settled. The crowded room made his journey difficult, but his specialty was equilibrium. Which was probably the reason why his mates had sent him on drink duty.

"There you go!" he announced once he reached the table. Bruce stood to help him and pass the drinks. Mostly beers, so they wouldn't offend Pepper, who always rolled her eyes at them drinking underage, especially so early in the evening.

Thor and his girlfriend Jane had joined them tonight, as well as Thor's friends Victor, Hector and Flor, also known as the Warriors Three. Unusually, Coulson was there too. Maria was late and they were expecting Tony to show up at some point. Tonight, a guy named Hammer had replaced him behind the turntables. He was alright, but not as good as their Iron Man. It still didn't stop people from coming and dancing like there was no tomorrow.

"Took you long enough!" Flor protested as he grasped his Heineken and slid Hector's Red Bull down to him. "I thought I'd die of thirst."

"Shut up, Fandrall," Jasper replied dryly. "You're up next time."

Rhodey and Victor smirked and Flor took a generous sip of his drink.

"So I heard the competition was cancelled and the real thing reported to next month?" he asked, slamming his glass on the table. Phil nodded.

"Stark told me he found a huge place, but it wouldn't be free till then. Apparently there were too many crews begging for a battle, so pre-selections had to happen elsewhere."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the latest fusion between Chitauris and Hydra, does it?" Jane asked, sounding worried. "I heard Thanos was getting friendly with the wrong people."

Phil's lips thinned in annoyance.

"Most crews don't want them in the Street to start with, so as long as they lay low there shouldn't be anything to be worried about," he concluded. "Which brings me to my next question," he added, turning towards Thor. "Will your crew be competing with or against us?"

The blond man grinned.

"With you, of course! I shall bring the Asgardians to the warehouse starting next week. Be assured our crew is more than willing to join Shield."

The boys cheered together, finished their drinks with a last giant swig and slammed their glasses down on the table with a loud 'ANOTHER!', a tradition picked up from Thor. From the bar, Pepper rolled her eyes. Flor suddenly spoke up:

"I shall bother you no more." His eyes followed a pretty blonde across the room. He stood up elegantly and ran a hand through his hair. "Gentlemen, I am deeply sorry but I shall take my leave."

Victor and Hector exchanged knowing glances as the third member of their group left.

"Our friend has found his prey for tonight."

"Shall we take our leave as well?"

Rhodey rolled his eyes and Jasper smirked while Thor grinned, amused. The two remaining Warriors Three left their table with a last salute to settle on another, better place for observation. Jane's cell rang – how she heard it over then noise, they'd never know – and momentarily headed outside after giving her boyfriend a quick kiss. Phil checked his own phone mournfully and took another sip of his drink. It was painfully obvious to the others that he was expecting someone's call. Perhaps the cellist he had met at Fury's the other day, Jasper reflected.

"Why are we the only single ones? I'd kill to have a girlfriend," he suddenly said, faking a depressed state. Bruce shrugged indifferently.

"I'm not upset. I've got science."

"That's not a real person," Rhodey remarked with a raised eyebrow. "Unless you're thinking of Betty Ross?"

"Who's that?" Jasper asked immediately.

"His lab partner," Rhodey replied with an all-knowing smirk. Bruce's ears turned pink.

"Bruce, you sneaky-"

"Oh, shut up," Bruce muttered, suddenly very interested in his beer.

"Whatever," Jasper sighed. "But don't you guys miss it? I mean, look at our resident hawk," he added, nodding towards Clint and Natasha, who were on the dance floor, dancing daringly close to each other. "I bet you they'll be together pretty soon."

"By the look of it, I'd say sometime next week," Bruce said absentmindedly.

"She just left her boyfriend. I'd give her another month or so," Rhodey said.

"You overestimate her attachment to her ex," Phil commented out of the blue, surprising everyone by his sudden input. "She didn't seem too upset over their breakup."

Bruce, Rhodey and Jasper stared at him with eyes wide open. It amused the older man how gossipy the teenagers could be; especially when it concerned one of their own.

"She came back during Maria's rehearsal last Sunday; that's how Stark knew about it. He had already witnessed how… _enthusiastic_ she seemed to leave Clint." Phil shrugged. "I'd bet before the weekend." It was Wednesday.

"If they don't already hook up tonight," a new, breathless voice interrupted. The table's occupants turned around and spotted Maria in her work attire, dropping a bag next to Phil's seat. The man's face seemed to brighten up a little.

"Hey, I was starting to think you wouldn't make it!" Rhodey said, shifting his chair so she had enough room. Maria let herself fall on the seat and sighed deeply.

"Fury kept me an extra hour; he had a lot of stuff going on."

The boys raised their eyebrows in curiosity. Bruce blurted as Phil spoke:

"The mighty eyepatch kept you an extra hour?"

"What's going on?"

The young woman sighed deeply and stole a sip of Coulson's martini. When she put down the glass with a little more strength than necessary, everyone knew Fury had something planned out.

"Peter Parker's finally out of the hospital," she announced, and her comrades smiled in relief. "But since Wade's still in the mental institution for his last stunt, Fury handpicked another kid for his next single."

"Clint's going to be relieved," Rhodey said. "He was afraid Fury would try to pair him with Parker. Shame, really, he's got a goddamn good voice. Why weren't _you_ chosen by the way?"

Maria frowned at him. "I'm already working with Stark; that's more than enough. And our voices don't sync. The new guy's good enough; he just needs some workout."

"So will you welcome another comrade in the troop?" Thor inquired happily. Maria snorted.

"I doubt it. His body is nowhere near strong enough to stand our training."

"Well, well," Jasper said, raising his glass slightly. "What's the guy's name anyway? We know him?"

The corner of Maria's lips tugged upwards. "Oh, yeah. Fury's hiring Steve Rogers."

* * *

In spite of their earlier conversation, Natasha found it rather easy to stick at Clint's side. He hadn't strayed from his usual behavior, although he did seem relieved that she hadn't run out on him. He actually hadn't left her side from all afternoon, sometimes watching her warily when he thought she wasn't looking. Actually, she was surprised how easily she accepted this tale and accepted _him_. Perhaps she knew deep down he would never harm her, at least intentionally. And she really _didn't_ want to leave the crew.

When they returned, she noticed Maria and Phil's side glances. But Clint's attitude seemed to put them at ease, and when they had all headed for the Helicarrier that night, Natasha knew no questions would be asked about her decision. It felt odd, to know that people wouldn't judge her if one them did; and quite a nice change. It gave her every reason not to betray the small trust they put in her.

The DJ tonight wasn't Tony; she realized it immediately when typical radio dancefloor songs played instead of the original R&B remixes from Iron Man (she did a little research and was impressed with what she heard. Not that she'd tell the man anyway; his head was big enough as it was).

"C'mon, dance with me!" Clint urged with that puppy look that made it very had to refuse him anything. Natasha rolled her eyes but took his hand and let him pull her into the mass of dancing people while the rest of the crew had gone in search of a table. The platform was dense, so their bodies were close, almost touching. It took her a little more time to get into the mood; she was used to Tony's R&B. But the music gave out energy and soon enough she let herself go.

_You beat my drum, drum, drum _

_And it's dynamite _

_You beat my drum, drum, drum_

_And it feels so right_

When she swung her hips to the rhythm of the music, Clint followed suit, putting in no effort to keep a reasonable distance between them. Whenever she moved, he wasn't far behind, copying, trying to anticipate and dominate her. They circled around each other for a while, before Clint managed to slip behind her and brush her hip with a smooth gesture of his hand. Natasha unconsciously tilted her hip to follow it, until he completely grabbed her side and pulled her backwards. Her back hit his chest, still in motion, and she allowed him to take control. Her arm slipped backwards around his neck as he nuzzled her cheek. Her other hand settled over one of his while they travelled up and down her sides, down to her thigh. His hips undulated with hers as both bodies seemed to melt into each other and move at once in an odd kind of dirty dancing.

_You'll take me high, high, high _

_Like a paper kite_

_Up in the sky, sky, sky_

_On a starry night_

Natasha should have seen the signs, but she was too busy moving in sync, losing herself in the music and appreciating the strong chest holding her. As she got caught in the rhythm, she didn't push Clint away when his lips brushed her ear, merely tilted her head on the side to give him more access. The touch of his mouth against her skin made her shiver and arch against him. One hand stilled over her stomach while the other moved north and stopped right under her breasts. A really warm wave spread in her stomach and this time Natasha couldn't bite back a soft moan.

_Tonight, you're gonna save my world_

_Baby it's there tonight_

_You're gonna light my world_

Out of the blue, he turned her back to face him and his lips were pressing against hers. It should have freaked her out, should have triggered ringing bells, should have - this was _wrong_, this was too fast, this was _Clint_-

_I'm getting high on your love,_

_I'm getting high on your love,_

His mouth was soft, gentle; much gentler than she had imagined. His eyes were halfway closed, ocean blue, and green and golden, and just so mesmerizing. Before she realized what she was doing, her arms moved on their own, wrapped around his neck, pulled him closer. His body felt strong, a result of the hard work he put it through. Just like in the park, he smelled like sweat, spice and something just _him_. He coaxed her mouth open and slid his tongue in. She hated when James did that; it made her uncomfortable. But this was different, this was Clint, and Clint apparently liked to take his sweet time with her. One hand settled on her lower hips, caressed her up and down, dangerously flirting with the skin revealed between her top and her trousers. The other got buried in her hair as he kept on kissing her.

_I'm getting high on your love, _

_I'm getting high on your love,_

She liked the way he felt. Liked the way he tasted. Liked the way he handled her. She liked it all too well, which was why when they pulled apart for air and she came back to her sense, realization hit her hard. Clint looked at her with darkness in his eyes, his lips slightly swollen and his breath heavy. Her heartbeat escalated in panic and she took a step back. Hurt crossed his face but this time she couldn't stay. So she turned around, cut through the crowd and headed outside.

* * *

In spite of what they thought, he had been watching. In a corner of a room, Thomas Nargles, alias Thanos, kept a steady stare on Clint and his girlfriend. Next to him, his second-in-command Schmidt took a large gulp of his drink and glared at the couple.

"He acts like he never belonged to us," The man snorted. "He moves like he's not scared of us. Even Loki was nervous when you went to him. Why isn't _he_?"

The colossus didn't answer. He merely took his own drink and raised it to his lips.

"He feels secure because he's surrounded. The Chitauris never meant a thing to him, and neither will Hydra."

"You told me you'd get him back. A guy who never misses would be useful in our crew. And even if he doesn't join, he should know not to act like he isn't afraid. Other defectors might get ideas."

"I am closely followed by the police, Schmidt. I cannot act in the open air," Thanos replied calmly. "But do not worry; it's a matter of opportunity."

They watched as Barton turned the redhead around and kiss her, then saw said redhead take a step back and leave. Thanos grinned and made a vague motion of the hand. Two henchmen, who had been waiting behind the duo, stood up and walked up to him. He made another move and the two men headed outside in turn.

"This, my friend," Thanos said, taking another lazy sip, "Is what I mean."

* * *

**The song is 'High on Your Love' from Shanon Doorson**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the long wait…Shouldn't happen again. Clintasha in the end of the chapter, just because.**

******Thanks to AgentEquus for betaing! She always makes those chapters better ^^**

**Please read and enjoy! (and review before leaving ;3)  
**

* * *

**10.**

For the umpteenth time, Clint cursed himself. Since Natasha had departed from the dance floor, he had taken up residence at the bar and ordered some vodka to get over his stupidity. He had kissed her. He had kissed her while they were dancing. If that wasn't the stupidest move he had ever made… Sure, he had been pining over her for a while, but it didn't mean _she_ liked him that way. Still, feeling her body move against him and she letting him nuzzle her neck had been too much and he hadn't resisted to the calling of those gorgeous lips and…

And she had kissed back.

_That_ lovely little detail kept replaying over and over his head. She had kissed him back. Whether she was caught in the moment or had truly wanted it, he couldn't get the fact out of his mind. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the softness of her mouth, the smooth skin under his fingers, the light press of her breasts against his chest. If things were up to him, he would have dragged her in a corner and kept kissing her all night. Maybe touch her, if she had allowed him.

Clint snorted into his glass. Even if she had responded to him, she wouldn't have allowed him more. Natasha was someone hated jumping in the unknown. Kissing her was catching her off guard, so it shouldn't surprise him she had taken off. In that regard, she was a lot like Bruce, evaluating the situation before reacting. He'd have to apologize to her later. He just hoped he hadn't broken the fragile friendship they had built up to now.

His thoughts were interrupted by Maria's arrival. She poked his shoulder to get his attention and asked very calmly, "Where is Natasha?"

Clint shrugged. "She went out. Guess she wanted to get some air."

Much to his surprise, Maria tensed. Her mouth thinned into a hard line and her eyes narrowed in what he supposed was anger.

"Thanos is here," she spat tersely. Clint's blood froze.

"I thought Tony had put a _persona non grata_ on him at the Heli."

"Hammer is buddy-buddy with Hydra, remember? And he'd do anything to piss Stark off," Maria replied, practically seething. "I sent Bruce and Thor to check on the guys outside. You scan the crowd. If she didn't leave, catch her before she does. I'll check the restrooms."

The brunette darted upon those words, leaving Clint dumbfounded. Thanos was here. Thanos was here and Natasha probably missing. The idle threat he had thrown at Clint didn't look so idle anymore. The young man pushed away the subtle, increasing fear and started searching for a splash of red hair.

If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

* * *

It was pure dumb luck that Tony Stark walked by that alley, a little hop in his walk as he approached his favorite nightclub.

That night, he hadn't planned to go at the Helicarrier. His CEO had encountered a problem he needed to take care of himself – Stark Industries was a big company after all, and he had, on a sort of whim, decided to open a branch on clean energy. The meeting was supposed to last hours. Thankfully, they had solved the problem faster than expected (just a technical defect even a newbie could have worked out). Since the clock hadn't hit ten PM yet, he had decided to make a detour on his way home and properly greet Pepper, his not-girlfriend (but if he had his ways, soon to be).

At first, Tony thought the shadows moving in the dark were lovers having fun, but soon enough he realized their gestures were too brusque. He approached soundless –or as soundlessly he could be –and checked the situation closer. Stark was surprised to recognize the birdbrain's girlfriend, fighting her way out of a particularly delicate situation.

"Get the_ hell_ o-!"

Two guys were towering over her, one covering her mouth with his hand and the other holding her wrists. Natasha was defending herself okay, Tony thought. She would wriggle out of their grip, spin around using her flexibility and near-gymnastic skills and try to hit her assailants in the right places. But as good as she was, she was still a thin teenager against two burly men. Stark was no fighter like birdbrain, Rhodey or Thor. He had no specific skills like that redhead girl. He was a showoff but no coward either.

He took a step forwards and shouted loud, hoping someone in the neighborhood would hear him.

"Hey, bozos! Why don't you hit on someone your own size?"

As he expected, the two guys stopped paying attention to the girl and turned towards him. "What, you jealous?" one of the thugs asked, leering at him.

Plan A succeeded, Tony thought. What came next again?

"Not at all, but given the fact you guys are using brute force against a frail little damsel," he didn't miss the glare Natasha sent him, "I'd rather not just sit around and wait till you're done. I mean, _hello_, I thought people like you would grow a brain one day."

One of the thugs dropped the girl and walked closer to him. Had Tony had any sense of self-preservation, he would have turned tail and gotten the hell out of dodge. But if he ran, birdbrain's girlfriend would be left alone and those guys looked like they would crack her head open without remorse the moment he turned away.

"Tony!"

A huge feeling of relief washed over him as he recognized Bruce's voice, quickly followed by Thor's heavy footsteps. A quick glance over his shoulder told him they looked quite pissed. The two thugs glanced at each other before taking off, leaving their target behind. Understandable, Stark thought sarcastically. Thor was not a guy you'd want to mess with, and Bruce, in spite of his frail appearance, hid considerable strength when angry. He hadn't seen them in action first-hand, but he'd heard the rumors. On second thought, perhaps he would have rather have the two thugs hang around, just for entertainment's sake.

Tony pushed those thoughts away and walked towards Natasha. She was wobbling but leaning against the wall to stabilize herself. The girl didn't look to be in shock, per se, but not perfectly fine either.

"You okay, kid?"

The young woman's shirt was ripped at the sleeves, the side of her face reddish from what looked to be a slap. Her jeans looked intact, so Stark assumed the two guys weren't after her in that way.

"I'm not a frail little damsel," she muttered in return, eyes narrowed and angry. Well, at least she was still kicking, he thought sarcastically. Perhaps it was her coping mechanism. Given the large bruises on her forearms and the way she favored her left leg, they must have done a number on her. _Were they trying to scare her?_ He wondered. As far as he knew, Natasha had no ties with any people from the underground. The worst association she could possibly have would be the cre-

Stark blinked, absorbing the new piece of information. The crew. Of course. Natasha and birdbrain were getting tight and some people – namely a certain creep named Thanos – had a little thing against him.

"Tasha!"

Speak of the devil. Clint was running down the alley, closely followed by Maria and Rhodey. Stark watched with interest the way her body reacted at his voice, yet tensed when he tried to touch her.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, cautiously brushing her arm. She looked like she wanted him to hold her and at the same time run far, far away. But she didn't say a word and nodded instead, hugging herself to stop the shaking of her shoulders. The others exchanged glances and with the usual efficiency, Maria sent Bruce fetch the car with Rhodey while Thor stood as a sentinel to watch their surroundings. The evening was over. _What were those kids doing at the Helicarrier anyway?_ Stark thought, _didn't they have school the next morning?_ Oh well, if they wanted to be hung over in the morning, that was their problem. More urgent stuff was currently going on.

"Are your parents home?" Maria asked, stepping closer to the redhead. Natasha shook her head.

"They've gone to Europe for two months. They won't come back till next month."

Stark's fists tightened in anger. How people could just leave their daughter behind without any form of supervision would always stun him. His father hadn't been a model parent, but at least he always made sure Tony wasn't alone during his business trips.

"I'd rather you stay with us until then," the brunette said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "We have a couple of free guest rooms, you'll be fine there."

Natasha accepted the offer with grateful eyes. They waited in silence while the car was being brought around. Tony took advantage of that moment to observe Clint and his not-girlfriend as they both stood side by side, with Clint pretending not to send worried glances at her and her pretending not to notice. He concluded those two would be hooking up within the week and absently wondered if a betting pool had been drawn yet and how high the latest bid was.

* * *

She couldn't sleep. Natasha supposed that being assaulted by two guys that ran away afterwards would do that. She was just thankful that Maria had insisted she slept at the warehouse; she didn't feel like spending a night alone. The room she was given was nice, but couldn't stop the insecurity creeping in. Although she knew people were nearby, she couldn't stop tensing at every little unfamiliar noise, which happened every five seconds. Pipes whistling, walls cracking, wind blowing…

Natasha stood up, pushed the door of her room open and strolled down the corridor. At first, she intended to stop by the bathroom and upon her return read a book since she probably wouldn't get any sleep. But sometime along the way, her feet stopped in front of _his_ room.

Over time, Natasha had remembered what had occurred when she had last crossed that threshold. He was halfway carrying her, she was laughing like there was no tomorrow and babbling about the fun she had. Once the door had been closed, once they had both changed clothes for the night, once they had lain on the bed, his hands had wandered over her face, hers had caressed his chest, and they had kissed and made out until exhaustion had taken over and they had fallen asleep. She knew why she hadn't pushed him away. It wasn't the alcohol that had lowered her defenses, but the feeling of safety she felt around him, like she knew he'd never hurt her. And the way he touched her, not frenetic and overpowering but slow and discovering, had made her want more despite not knowing him at all.

Natasha bit her lower lip. Would she feel that safety again if she stepped back in? She hadn't been in his bedroom since that night. Then again, she didn't really have any reason to. But to feel safe again… She pushed the door open and entered the room. Clint wasn't asleep. His still form stiffened and straightened the moment she closed the door.

"Tasha?" She hadn't realized how much she wanted to hear his voice until now. "Tasha, that you?"

She stepped closer to the round-shaped bed. Wait, round-shaped bed? Odd, Natasha thought. She hadn't paid great attention to the decor last time she had been here, she'd have to remedy that tomorrow. In the darkness, she managed to draw the shape of his body, the way he leaned forwards as she approached.

"Can I stay here?" she asked quietly.

There was no hesitation in his movements as Clint moved aside to let her in. Natasha climbed on the bed and immediately curled up on the warm spot he had left for her.

His hand reached out and tentatively held hers. Natasha didn't pull away. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe evenly. After a while, as his thumb ran over her knuckles in a soothing way, Natasha released a breath she hadn't realized holding and relaxed a little. She felt safe here, tucked between his sheets and smelling him around her. She could feel Clint right across her, unmoving, breathing even but probably staring at her. It didn't bother her. On the opposite, Clint watching her was a reassuring thought.

Natasha didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she felt sunrays over her face and the mattress moving beneath her. Scratch that, a mattress wasn't warm and moving. Her eyes snapped open and she met Clint's gray-blue amused ones.

Oh, darn.

"Morning, sweetheart," he said with a cheeky grin. Her cheeks must be burning from embarrassment. He didn't seem to mind having her crushing his chest, so she didn't hurry to get away. It _was_ a nice, solid chest.

"Hi?" she replied, her voice raspy with sleepiness. To her discontent, he shifted position so she ended up on the side facing him. Although his eyes were bright and alert, his voice was deep and still husky from sleep. His hair looked even messier than usual and she resisted the urge to run her hand through it. It _did_ look kinda soft…

"Slept well?" Natasha nodded. He smiled. "That's great. Phil said we could skip school today if yer still a bit uneasy. We still got another twenty if y'wanna stay longer."

"I'll be fine," she replied with a yawn and shifted into a more comfortable position. "Twenty's great." If her hand happened to brush his along the way…well, coincidences _did _happen.

In spite of the relaxed atmosphere, Natasha couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. Clint was staring back at her too, his face unreadable. She wondered what was going through his head, but she lay content.

"You'll be all right?" he eventually asked.

"No trauma, I promise," she replied with a small smile and she meant it. Clint seemed to relax considerably, but the worry was still visible in the line around his mouth.

"Sorry you got sucked into all my issues."

Natasha took his hand and squeezed it. She tried not to ponder over the warmth of his and how he suddenly stilled.

"I told you. Not running away."

Another bright smile grew on his face, but it was obvious there was another thing on his mind. They remained silent, watching each other thoroughly, intimately. Natasha didn't mind, though; he made her feel safe. After a while, Clint seemed to gather his guts and asked, "I know it must be the last thing you want to talk about but…did the kiss bother you?"

She almost laughed. His eyes were urging her for a genuine response. So Natasha gave him one.

"No," she replied honestly. She had been upset at the time, but more about how much she had enjoyed it. She liked him for sure, had let him in faster than anyone else and definitively wanted more. The barely two weeks thing bothered her a little. Being able to trust someone was the basis of everything, and she was tempted to give herself away to guy she barely knew?

Natasha realized he hadn't spoken yet. A question was on his mind, saw him hesitate, watched him as he inhaled sharply and asked quietly:

"Would you mind if I did it again?"

He was expecting a straight rejection, but still tried. Natasha had to admit she kinda liked his particular brand of persistence. So she answered genuinely, "No. I wouldn't."

Clint's eyes widened in surprise, the corners of his mouth tilted up in disbelief. She tried hard to restrain her urge to burst into laughter again but sobered when he cupped her cheek, leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. The contact was so gentle, so _chaste_ it made her giggle.

"What?" The puzzled look on his face made her laugh harder.

"Given the way you kissed me yesterday, I'd expect you a bit more…_passionate_," She teased him. Her smile weakened as something shifted in his eyes. The clear slate blue turned darker, more intense in a slightly frightening way.

"I can give you more passionate," he whispered, and the huskiness of his voice made her shiver, but not in fear.

"Try me," was her daring reply, and Natasha meant it. She wouldn't break easily and she didn't want him to treat her as something fragile. The second of surprised passed, and Clint's grin came back full force.

"You've got it, sweetheart."

* * *

**Next chap, Steve is joining. Finally :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm not quite done with chap 12, but ironically chap 13 and 14 are nearly ready to be posted. Anyway, here is Steve's great comeback!**

**********Thanks to AgentEquus for betaing!**

**********And please enjoy :)  
**

* * *

**11.**

Steve wasn't particularly nervous, per say. No, not nervous at all. The trembling of his fingers had nothing to do with the lump he felt in his throat and the slight sweat over his forehead. He wanted this, right? He wanted to enter the world of music and make a living of it. So why was he so (_not_, he reminded himself) nervous?

"Mr. Rogers?"

The brunette, who had introduced herself as Maria Hill (he already knew her name, they were at the same high-school after all), stared at him expectantly. Steve jumped to his feet and followed her.

Thanks to Bobbi's badmouthing of everyone, he knew a couple of rumors on her persona, but had never truly interacted with her. Maria Hill wasn't at all what he expected, yet at the same time exactly like he had pictured her – a stern, dry and professional young woman. After the provisionary contract he had signed with Mr. Furholl, she had been his liaison. While he wasn't particularly at ease with her, she didn't judge him or attempted to coddle. No, she was straight to the point, patient, presented facts clearly and precisely and asked the right questions.

Today was the first time he'd be in a real studio to practice. Today would be his chance to prove himself he was worth more than just little weakling Steve who hid in his best friend's shadow. He was surprised, though, when she walked out of the building and into the parking lot.

"Where are we going?"

"To the recording studio," she replied without missing a beat. "We need you to be at ease with the material when you will start working with Mr. Parker. Mr. Fury's partner agreed to let you use his personal studio."

Steve nodded. Of course, that was part of the deal. The first song he'd sing on would be a duet with an already known performer, Peter Parker. They had met once and Steve had a feeling they could do decent work together. Fury seemed to be of the same opinion. If his first work had positive results, Fury would give him more freedom and later on the possibility of writing his own songs. Steve had no idea what 'later on' exactly meant, but he was determined to give it a go. He had his chance and he was going to grab it.

He climbed into the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt. The ride lasted half an hour in complete silence. He had no conversational skills whatsoever and she didn't open her mouth to encourage him so he kept staring at the neighborhood outside. They arrived in a district he had never been in before and stopped in front of a huge building. From the outside, it looked more like a residence but leftovers of some architectural details let him know this was a repurposed warehouse. The isolated location made him nervous.

"Is this where you dump the body?" he blurted. Hill raised an eyebrow at him and Steve blushed heavily. Fine, he was nervous.

"Director Fury wanted to give you a chance, but I am not convinced," Hill stated coolly. She led the way inside through corridors until they reached a small room in which a stage was set up. "I am your auditor. Impress me."

Steve's pulse skyrocketed.

"But I thought I was in?"

Hill's stare was inflexible.

"That will be up to me and the three next auditors, who will watch you to decide. You've held a microphone before?" He nodded. "I'll give you twenty minutes to practice whatever piece you want. Then I'll be back with the rest of the jury. Until then, Mr. Rogers." She walked out of the door, ignoring his panicked look.

_Twenty minutes to practice? I'll never make it!_ The blonde thought, already on the edge of hyperventilating. He forced himself to calm the heck down and breathe deeply.

Steve thought of his uncle, Dr. Erksine, the first one who had ever encouraged him to develop his voice. He remembered the hours of practice Miss Carter put him through, the tips from Mr. Philip. He closed his eyes momentarily. James Barnes. The one person he thought would never fail him, the only one who didn't mock his passion for singing, but didn't encourage it either. How stupid had Steve been to be so blind? James was his best friend, his mentor almost. But on the flip side, he was such an utter douchebag.

Steve took a deep breath and stepped closer to the microphone. He tapped the tip, making sure the echo wouldn't be a problem. He warmed up his voice with the exercises Miss Carter had taught him. At the same time, he imagined the three people who had recognized his voice sitting there, smiling encouragingly –or in Mr. Philip's case, staring blankly. Steve smiled in spite of himself. The three had been the only public he had needed for a long time. Now, he wanted to expand his horizons.

So when he felt he was ready, he closed his eyes and sang.

_All around me are familiar faces, _

_Worn out place, worn out faces, _

_Bright and early for the daily races _

_Going nowhere, going nowhere._

He let the sound envelop him, the words flow from his mouth like a steam.

_Their tears are filling up their glasses_

_No expression, no expression_

_Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow_

_No tomorrow, no tomorrow_

Steve didn't hear the door open, didn't realize he wasn't alone anymore.

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles it's a very, very_

_Mad world, mad world…_

All that mattered were the words he sang, those familiar faces smiling encouragingly at him, telling him he was doing great, that he'd go far, that he just needed to trust himself. He kept on singing the second verse, lost in his own world, until he opened his eyes and stopped abruptly.

Hill was back with a crowd. A tall, half-bald man; a dark-haired man; two middle aged people and a few high-school classmates were all congregated on the floor. Hill's arm was halfway raised, as if intending to prevent someone from moving or talking. Her face was blank but he thought he could detect a hint of approval in the contours of her mouth. The half-bald man looked clearly impressed and the two other adults' faces were blank. The dark-haired man – whom he recognized Tony Stark – was smirking. His classmates were Bruce Banner, Jasper Sitwell and – he swallowed – Natasha.

"I think that'll be enough, Mr. Rogers," Hill said. "Welcome to the Furholl School of Creative Arts."

* * *

"Holy shit, man, you can sing!"

Steve blushed heavily as he heard the evident admiration in the other's eyes. Even the half-bald man –Coulson, he remembered vaguely - was staring with something akin to stars in his eyes. Hill had handed him three pages to sign, given him a copy of the contract they had already discussed, and left to take care of some other business. The two older adults had followed her, so Steve was left with the DJ and his classmates.

"I never knew you sang," Natasha said in turn. The genuine awe in her voice made him blush. "How long?"

Steve squared his shoulders when he realized everyone was listening.

"A while. I don't remember when I started, I just never stopped. And I was helped a little along the way," he added, thinking of his three original supporters. He'd have to give them a call later to tell them the news.

"Well you were right," Coulson confirmed with a serious nod. "It paid off well. Furholl is serious business, they'll take care of you."

The odd glint in the man's eyes made Steve wonder if he was the one who'd be following him closely.

"How did you get noticed?" Banner asked.

"I was singing in the garden for my grandma. And all of a sudden this guy, Mr. Furholl, shows up and gives me a sheet to get enrolled in his school… I just decided I needed to give it a chance."

"Good for you," Jasper said. Natasha's brow creased.

"So James didn't give you a push?"

At the name, Jasper and Banner stiffened; they had forgotten the blonde was a friend of Natasha's ex. Surprisingly, Steve's eyes shined with betrayal.

"I heard what Bucky did to you; what he did with Bobbi behind your back. You don't deserve that." Natasha wanted to assure him it was fine, that he didn't have to feel responsible for his friend's behavior, but Steve tended to carry the weight of the world on his frail shoulders. She knew he looked up to Bucky, admired him in spite of his faults and had something of a boy-crush on him. But he must have had truly enough of his friend's behavior to try without talking to him first. "And he thought singing wasn't really manly, per se, so he didn't encourage it. I made the decision on my own."

"Perfect!" Tony chipped in rather loudly. "New recruit, new friend…I think it's time to celebrate."

"Stark…" Phil warned with a raised eyebrow.

"That midget has a golden voice," Stark went on, ignoring him. Steve frowned, not knowing if he should take it as a compliment or an insult. Coming from that guy, probably both. "And he's a friend of birdbrain's girlfriend." This time, Natasha glared at him and Steve wondered where the blush on her cheeks came from. Who was birdbrain? Had the redhead already found someone else? He'd have to ask her later. "So even if he won't be part of the Shield crew," Tony motioned the blonde's frail body, "We need to throw a party!"

"You just want an excuse to drink," Banner muttered, and everyone agreed.


	12. Chapter 12

**I think this is one of my favorite chapters. I'm not a Maria/Coulson shipper to begin with, but they were easy to write in here. Hope you enjoy this :) **

**Once again, thanks to AgentEquus for betaing!**

* * *

**13**

"Natasha, can I see you for a second?"

The redhead glanced up and spotted Phil standing nearby the exit door. They were in the middle of a rehearsal with the complete Shield and most of the Asgardian crew, sans Sif and Loki. The disappointment on Clint's face had been hilarious. Maria, who was directing the show and dancing at the same, threw him an annoyed glare.

"Is it urgent?" she asked, annoyed. The man shrugged.

"This shouldn't take long."

Maria muttered something quite unflattering and nodded towards the redhead. Natasha left the room, feeling everyone's questioning gaze on her. She had that odd feeling of being excused from class because she was being called to the principal's office. Given Coulson was the equivalent of principal of this house and Maria one of its top teachers, perhaps she wasn't far off.

"What is it?"

Coulson gave her a reassuring smile and motioned her to move. "Don't worry, there's just someone who wants to meet you."

He led her through the corridors and stopped in front of a halfway opened door, which she recognized as being his office. Phil entered without knocking.

"She's here."

A black man with an eyepatch was sitting in the visitor's chair. Natasha recognized him right away. She had only seen him once a couple of weeks ago, but she didn't forget Nick Fury's impressive stature. Now what the hell did he want with her?

"Good morning, Miss Romanoff," he said, his deep voice reverberating throughout the office. Phil walked around the desk, leaving her next to the free chair at a respectable distance from the School for Creative Arts' headmaster. She sat warily, not looking away from his eyes, and very conscious of her current state of dress: a tank top, old leggings and worn out trainers. Not to mention her hair were tied in a messy knot on the top of her head and her skin flushed from the recent intense exercise.

"Sir," she greeted, half out of politeness and half out of abject fear for the man. His impassible face made her feel uncomfortable, but she wouldn't let her uneasiness show. It wasn't easy, though.

"You have talent, Miss Romanoff," Fury said bluntly, his one eye fixing her with an intense stare. "Are you considering applying to a school for the arts or other arts program?"

"No, sir," she replied quickly. When he eyed her into giving him a more detailed answer, she sighed and added: "I am directed more towards law school." At least, that's where her parents wanted her to go.

"That would be a waste." The man shifted in his seat and leaned his elbows on his knees. "I have rarely seen young people with your kind of talent. Your skills are still raw and uncertain, but with the right classes, I know you will go far."

Natasha quirked an eyebrow and asked sarcastically, "Are you trying to recruit me?"

The black man revealed a sharp smile. His odd smirk reminded her of a shark. A hungry shark. "That would be right." Natasha blinked in surprise, although at second thought, she should have expected it. Why bother meeting her in person if he wasn't intending to offer her something? "There would be an entrance exam, but with your skills, it will be a formality."

The invitation sounded tempting. Unfortunately...

"I can't rely on dance alone. There are other people who are better than I am. Always have been, always will be," she pointed out, thinking of a couple of names.

"I have no doubt of that," Fury replied. "And a dancer who hasn't got a second skill is no use to me."

"Maria is Fury's assistant as well as a dancer," Phil intervened quickly, before she could take the sentence as an insult. "She knows the ground but Furholl's Creative Art School also gives classes in administrative domain. Steve will be studying art on the side, and I assume Clint will choose mechanics. If things don't turn out well for you, we don't want our students to feel trapped. If they eventually chose to follow a different path, Fury has associates all over the world, and not only in the dance area. The tuition is reasonable and you can apply for financial support if you think you can't make it."

Natasha stood speechless. Was he giving her a VIP pass to enter his school?

"Let's put it this way, Miss Romanoff." Fury spoke again. "Last year, a girl asked to join my school. She had the talent, but not the passion. Although she was brilliant and better than most candidates, I didn't keep her. You have the talent, and you obviously have the passion. This school can and will make you the best, if you give it a chance." Fury dropped a brochure on Coulson's desk. "If you are interested in joining, Phil knows what to do. I will be waiting to hear from you, Miss Romanoff."

The redhead watched him stand up and walked towards the door. Before he left, she asked hurriedly:

"Why do you think I have the passion? What makes you so sure I'll fit?"

Fury turned around to look at her and smirked. "I understood you have more of a classical background and you've been initiated to street dance very recently." She nodded in confirmation. "Two months into learning, and under Hill's directive, nonetheless," Natasha almost asked who was 'Hill' before remembering it was Maria's last name. "And she hasn't kicked you out; neither have you quit. That, Miss Romanoff, is proof enough for me."

* * *

"So Fury's enlisting her," Maria asked, though it was less of a question and more of a statement, before shoving her forearms deep in the bubbly sink.

"He's really interested in her," Coulson replied easily, his hands rubbing a wet glass pensively with the towel. Maria snorted.

"Is it a spree? First Rogers, then Natasha...who will he hire next?"

"In their defense, they are talented," Phil pointed out, dropping the glass on the table and picking up a plate.

It was his and Maria's turn to take care of the dishes tonight. Thankfully, there were only five people at dinner that night – Maria, Gillian, Clint, Natasha, and himself. The redhead was staying with them another week, until her parents returned from their business trip. He didn't mind much; she was nice to Gillian and made Clint happy. Coulson had no doubt they spent an unreasonable amount of time in the young man's room making out, if the messy hair and the pink marks she tried to hide beneath her clothes and Clint's goofy grins were any tells. Although he strongly doubted they had crossed the line yet…

Coulson shook his head. _That_ was territory he was most certainly not ready to explore yet. Having 'the Talk' with the kid the first time had been an adventure in and of itself. He wasn't ready for a second confrontation to lay the rules yet.

"Speaking of Clint and Natasha, it reminds me…There's something I've wanted to ask you for a while, but never got the chance to get around it," Maria said casually – too casually, immediately catching Phil's attention. The woman was anything but casual, especially if she started a conversation that way. It also meant he was probably not going to like what would follow. "How long have you been in love with me?"

Phil nearly dropped the plate. Out of all the possibilities of questions that had crossed his mind, this one had definitely _not_.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, keeping his voice a cool neutral. What was she thinking? What did she suspect? What would she do if…

"I'm not stupid Phil, and neither are you." Maria stopped the faucet, cutting off the water, and stared at him. "So stop playing dumb and answer the goddamn question."

The man's lips thinned into a straight line. The woman took her own towel to wipe her hands and stepped closer to him. Phil put down the plate next to the glass, ignoring her, but couldn't stop the shaking in his hands.

"I wasn't quite sure, but you just confirmed it," she added quietly. "Now tell me, please."

"A year or maybe more; I didn't realize it until recently," he replied, subdued. "Does it matter?"

Maria observed him quietly, her face completely closed up.

"I know Gillian's been calling you 'Dad'," she said, slowly. "I was wondering whether it was a regular occurrence or just an occasional slip."

"Occasional slip, but it's becoming more regular. She did it once and I didn't correct her. Your daughter needs a father figure." He paused at her sharp inhale of breath and stared at his shoes. "You know I'd do anything for that kid, right?"

"Phil, as far as I'm concerned, you have been her father in every way that matters." The man raised his head to look at Maria so fast it hurt. She held his gaze with a tight smile. "You've been here for us. You held her hand and told her bedtime stories when she was sick. You welcomed us like we were family, in spite of what your friends – hell, what everybody said. Even when rumors ran around about me using you, you didn't kick us out. We owe you a lot, Phil. I just…I just want to know if there won't be repercussions in the long term."

Her words trailed off, but he knew what she meant. It saddened him to that she would think him capable of using her daughter for leverage, but he supposed she couldn't help it. Being abused by someone you trusted was a major trauma that didn't heal so fast.

"I'll never take advantage of you or use Gillian against you," He spoke softly. "Don't worry, I knew my feelings wouldn't be returned, I wasn't fooling myself."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The man snorted and stared at her in disbelief. "Maria, you were barely fourteen when I took you and Clint in. You were just out of a difficult pregnancy with an infant, and easier scared off than a doe and looking up at me like a father figure. I am ten years your senior and you had much more important things on your mind. I couldn't – wouldn't - let you carry that burden. You, Gillian and Clint are my family first and foremost. I won't let whatever I may feel towards you destroy that."

Much to his surprise, Maria chucked and gave him that half smile of hers. "You're even more of a hopeless romantic that Clint is."

Phil raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the response. "Clint is a hopeless romantic?"

"I found a hidden stack of bad romance novels under the panel of his closet when I cleaned his room a while ago," she replied, deadpan. "And Phil, I…I can't be with anyone right now. It's been five years but it…it's still hard. I might never be ready." Her voice trembled but she kept her eyes firmly set on his, determined to get her message through. "But I know that if I ever got involved with someone in the future, it'd be y…"

Coulson interrupted her leaning a finger over her lips.

"You'll choose whoever you want whenever you want," he replied quietly. "For the time being, I'm content being your friend and Gillian's surrogate dad."

Maria had always needed stable, reliable, patient. He had known that from the start. He also knew she saw through his part-lie; he was content, yes, but he wasn't quite ready to lose her to another. The beginning of her confession did reassure him though. If she was attracted to him, then maybe, one day...

Maria turned away first, turning the water on again to continue her washing. Phil sighed. Maybe they would end up together, but in the meantime, there were still dishes to do.


End file.
